


I Want To Be Your Lost Boy

by omega12596



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU-Canon compliant (setting), AU-Canon divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omega12596/pseuds/omega12596
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post s3a - Stiles is bitten and things change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> New to this fandom, so I apologize in advance for any OOC or incorrect history. Though the story itself is near-future-fic/AU, I did my best to keep the back story canon. Gods bless my love of good slash, otherwise I'd likely never have read a Sterek piece, and then been compelled to watch the show (in total over a single weekend), and then... this.
> 
> I hope you, the readers, enjoy the story as much as I love writing it.
> 
> Title inspired by "Somewhere in Neverland" by All Time Low.

Erica and Boyd are gone and they aren't coming back. They will be missed, Erica's sort of scary crazy and Boyd's quiet strength, the both of them leaving patches of empty with their passing. Gerard's gone too, though god knows it's taking him long enough to be fully gone and Stiles truly wished the mountain ash/cancer would hurry up and rot the fucking bastard from the inside out. And considering how he lost his own mother, the fact that he wants Allison's grandfather to suffer as horrifically as possible said something about how much he hated the man.

Jackson left as well, to London, and though there's a chance (slim though it is) he'll return to Beacon Hills, Stiles finds he might-almost-maybe-not-quite-but-yeah miss the giant prick. Derek and Cora high-tailed it too (Stile's can't help but snort at himself - the dog jokes just keep comin') and maybe, maybe they'll come back. But with Derek all beta again, and reuninted with his sister, and with Scott a true Alpha, well... Maybe the Hale's won't ever return to the place where they lost everything that ever mattered. And Stiles shoves down the pulse of bone-deep sorrow at the prospect of never seeing Derek again, never seeing any of the lost ones again, moving his thoughts forward.

The Alpha pack are gone too, and Peter, but that group, oh, Stiles knows damn good and well those fuckers will be back. Scott and Allison and Lydia, the twins and Danny, they're all still in town, though for as little as they've seen each other since that night, three months ago when Scott became a true Alpha and they dealt with the Darach (and damn Derek, dude, sucky taste in chicks, ftw) they might as well be absent along with all the rest.

Stiles rolled onto his stomach, cheek pressed into the pillow scrunched beneath it, eyes gazing out the window. The one he'd locked, now, the computer near it powered down for the first time the young man can remember. The television was off too. There was only his long, deep sigh and the faint melody of "Somewhere in Neverland", playing from the ear phones laying next to him on the bed, drifting around the room.

_"Like your life is a map with no compass to guide."_

Stiles lids fluttered down. He knew the song by heart, but that one line really seemed to sum up everything that had happened over the last two years- in an almost painfully direct way. Werewolves, a kanima, psychotic werewolves, psychotic humans that hunt werewolves, Scott punching the V-card (Stiles still not), a rag-tag group of emotionally battered teenagers-cum-werewolves, led by an equally emotionally stunted Alpha, a psychotic group of uber werewolves, headed by a demonic-y Alpha. 

His dad being kidnapped, him being kidnapped, beaten to hell and back, nearly drowned, a Darach, a super creepy-stalker undeadish werewolf, Stiles actually-kind of-quasi-drowning, and finally being tainted by a darkness he'd accept all over again if it meant keeping his dad and Scott's mom alive and safe.

"Fuck my life." He heard his phone buzz and ignored it. After everything, just everything, Stiles decided he needed this break. A little space to pretend he knew nothing of the supernatural, to dress up like a real boy and laze around doing nothing. The problem, well, maybe he'd spent too much time with the wolves. Because, damn it... he tried to lie to himself just to prove he still can, but really? What's the point, since, duh, he knew he was lying too.

What he really needed was the pack that no longer exists, the best friend who'd become the Alpha. More than anything, he longed to snark at Derek, to sneer at Jackson... He loved his father, he loves him so much, they're all they have, blood and family and loyalty, but...

But so was the pack. Blood honestly spilled for one another. A family where most of them had none before and a loyalty borne of choice and not inheritance. But they were gone, so many gone forever, others so far, and the loss created a kind of emptiness in Stiles that he'd never felt before, not even when he watched his mother die and wondered what he'd done and why he couldn't fix it so she'd be whole again, happy, light and laughter and love...

So he ignored his phone, didn't bother to turn on the computer, he just laid in his room, eyes half-closed, and tried to figure out how to fix what seemed to be so broken inside. And not just for himself, but for all of those left behind and fighting to find a new equilibrium, a new balance, a new _pack_.

What else could he do? After all, Stiles had always been a giver.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"... without his _consent_!" Stiles heard Scott's voice and it was, like, super-fucking loud, grating against the throbbing in his skull.

"We'll have to speak with Mr. Stilinski, Scott, but either way, what's done is now done. Though-"

"He's _unconscious_ , Alan, not a lot of that happening."

Stiles snorted and mumbled, "Not anymore. Your bellows could raise the dead." He tried to roll to his side, the unforgiving metal beneath him creaking a bit. As soon as he shifted, he regretted the motion. It was the worst idea ever, if the nausea rolling through him with the force of a tsunami was any indication.

"Stiles?" It took Scott less than two seconds to slam into the room, hands pressing against his best friend's shoulder, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise.

"Dude. I'm alive. And ease up, man, tender human flesh here."

"Not anymore."

Stiles groaned, _what the hell now_. "What?"

Before Scott can answer, he heard the creak of a door hinge, the smell of gun oil and warmth and _family_. His father burst through the front door of the clinic and Stiles fought the grogginess in his head, chasing fleeting thoughts of how he knew it was his dad, why he could smell... 

"Stiles? Son!" The elder Stilinski's voice was filled with real terror, sorrow, worry so thick it could choke out the oxygen in the space.

Fear, panic, relief, another tidal wave of smells rushed over Stiles' still-coming-out-of-no-man's-land senses and everything came to super-sharp focus for a beat, the empty space between the pulses of his blood. That's the last moment when everything was fucked up but he remained plain-old, breakable Stiles. 

Without another pause, the past washed away and he found himself in an all new kind of normal, as the first beat became a second and a third, with each thump of his carotid artery, memories emerged until they overwhelmed him. The first shudder wracked Stiles, left him shaking, maybe coming apart. He growled, low in his throat, before tipping his head back and releasing a howl the likes of which probably hadn't been heard since the Hale fire so many years ago, eyes wide open, bleeding away from human and into not.

"Alan? Did I-" Scott backed off immediately and Stiles heard the waver in his voice.

"They're red, Scott. He's an Alpha."

"They weren't just red."

"I'm not exactly certain how to explain the silver. I need to contact a few people. Stay with him, try to keep him calm."

Everything snapped into real time as Scott stepped forward again. In the background of his mind, Stiles registered his best friend catching the sheriff when he stumbled into the small room, the both of them taking steadying breaths as they edged toward the young man on the gurney. When they're finally within reach, Stiles grabbed both of them, two forearms in two hands, and pulls them as close as he can.

And then he cracked as his brain fully engaged.

* * *

_Three days earlier..._

"I don't know why you're so surprised, Stiles. I mean, I didn't exactly get Scott's consent, now did I?"

Well, fuck, he knew he hadn't seen the last of Peter Hale, but really? This guy could not take a hint.

"You aren't an Alpha, you delusional fuck."

"Unimportant. Meredith?"

"After this, we're even, Hale."

"Of course."

Stiles fought against his bindings, namely the big ass burly dude holding him in the stiff-backed wooden chair. If only he could get to the inside of his jacket, to the wolfsbane powder there, he might be able to get out of this epic cluster without too much blood loss and his humanity.

The tall, lithe brunette Hale addressed stepped closer, her face transforming, eyes flashing red. "Sorry about this kid, but a pact is a pact and Hale came to collect."

"Fuck you!" His heart jack hammered in his chest, he almost couldn't hear beyond his pulse. "No!"

"Hold his legs." The woman, Meredith, motioned to the other beta, a blonde that looked to be in her early twenties. The other werewolf scrambled to do her bidding.

"The trick to not dying here, Stiles? Don't fight the wolf. Unless leaving your father alone is suddenly on your to do list."

Fuck Peter Hale. With one sentence, all the tension, all the will to defy and reject and not give in dissipated like ash on the wind. Stiles dropped his chin to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. The punishing grip on his shoulders eased slightly and the young woman at his feet made quick work of pushing his baggy t-shirt up and the hip of his jeans down, not far, but far enough.

Stiles lifted his head and caught Peter's gaze the moment before his already messed up life went one better on the shit scale. "I will end you."

"I know." Something like regret flashed in the older man's eyes. "But first, you'll have to find your strength."

 _Not_ regain _your strength, not_ recoup _. Find. Cryptic, psychotic, creepy as all hell, fucking zombie..._ Stiles' internal monologue was cut short by the shiver of magic as Meredith shifted closer and immediately attacked. He jolted at the impact of teeth, snapping deep into the flesh of his hip. He felt the press of her tongue against the bite, hard, sharp canines dug deep and then Stiles' world became fire, agony, holy fucking hell - the pain roared over him, bludgeoning him blessedly, into darkness.

When he woke, there was no denying the truth to himself. He could hear the sound of a small mammal, its tiny heart beating like hummingbird wings, in the distance. The amalgam of scents stuffing his nose were indistinct, heady, dizzying and even though Stiles was certain it was deep night, as far as his eyes were concerned it might as well have been noon. No, he didn't want this, didn't want it to be like this, by _her_ , some stranger. He wished he'd manned up, asked Derek, maybe Scott. Anything but being tied to someone else, someone _wrong_.

"Alright, Hale. I bit the kid and he survived. Now tell me where the true Alpha is."

"Meredith, that wasn't part of the bargain." 

Stiles shifted in the leaf litter, felt the wolf inside skitter beneath his skin. Peter, the fucking bastard, still, always, ever scheming and plotting and stirring shit. Maybe he should wait for the Alpha to kill him, or nearly kill the zombie werewolf. It would certainly make life easier for Stiles. His wolf grumbled, low, enraged. Stiles shivered a little (hello naked in the woods here) but he agreed. If anyone was offing Peter Hale, it would be him.

Before this cluster fuck, he'd been working with Deaton, trying to harness his spark or magic or what the hell ever was supposedly inside of him. Wondering if it was still there, if it might still be, Stiles closed his eyes and felt familiar power roll under his skin, up his spine and down again, pushing until ever cell of his body thrummed.

Alright, apparently not only was the energy still there, but the wolf ( _don't think about it, just move forward, fight or flight and get_ home _, Stiles_ ) had enhanced it, and maybe benefited from it, if the way the sensation of wild lupine energy turning over with delight as the other essence, the human-Stiles magic, twined with the new not-just-human-Stiles strength.

He crouched on the balls of his feet and fingertips, taking in his surroundings, spying Peter and Meredith, and her betas, about a hundred feet away. None of them looked his way, though Stiles was certain they knew he was awake and alert.

"I don't give a shit about bargains. Or what I owed you, once. An Alpha's power comes from their pack, or from another Alpha, and right now, I'm looking to expand. Taking out a true Alpha and focing his betas to join me or die, especially one that's just a _boy_ sounds like the perfect plan."

Meredith's hand flashed out, faster than human Stiles would have been able to register, claws sinking into the back of Peter's neck, lifting the once-Alpha, now beta, from the ground. She gave the man a little shake. "Speak, or I'll do everyone a favor and end you now."

Stiles maneuvered himself into striking distance. No, no this bitch would not take his vengeance from him. He couldn't go back, ever, but no one was taking anything else from him without his permission. He drew a slow breath, the power of the moon and magic coiling beneath his skin.

"Oh, Meredith, the power of an Alpha can be so much more than that." Peter's lips lifted a tiny measure, his gaze locking on Stiles. "Sorry about this."

The woman may have opened her mouth, Stiles didn't know, because he launched himself from the ground, claws pushing through his fingers, face shifting, and roared a split second before he buried his hands into the flesh of her back, tearing first her spine and then her entire being in half.

He felt the jolt of the power exchange, both his wolf and spark expanding, growing, becoming _more_. Meredith's betas shifted, growled behind him, and Stiles took a breath to turn his head, pin them with his gaze, and roar again, flashing fangs and spittle and _obey_. The two dropped down, showed their throats, whimpering and keeping their eyes on the ground.

"Absolutely amazing."

Peter, bereft of the strength of Meredith's grip stood behind Stiles and the newly turned human did not hesitate. As his hand sunk wrist deep into the elder Hale's chest, the son of a bitch's necrotic heart pumping out a sluggish rhythm, Stiles pulled the other lupine close.

"Good bye, Peter."

"Unbelievably perfect, Stiles. Protect what's yours. Please." Blood poured from Peter's lips and a peaceful look passed over his features but a moment before the last huff of air left his body. Stiles thrust the second-time dead male away, shoulders drooping slightly.

"I need to go home. If you're with me, then get me there. If you aren't, good luck omegas."

The female came closer, holding her position near the forest floor. "Yes, Alpha."

Stiles managed to stay coherent long enough to follow the other two out of the woods and into a car. Then he succumbed, gratefully.

* * *

"I - I don't have a clue where to start." Scott's mouth gaped, the sheriff hadn't let go of Stiles the entire time he'd recounted the story and Deaton looked his usual curious self.

"Sorry I can't give more details. You'd think I'd have like cataloged the event, or hell maybe added some onomatopoeia for effect. You know, I've always liked that word, something about the way it rolls around the lips, or maybe-"

"So the stream of consciousness speaking is just Stiles then?" Alan Deaton gave a small smirk before stepping forward, a glass of water and two large pills in his hands. "Take these. They're restoratives, nothing more."

Stiles narrowed his eyes, but took the offerings, choking back the pills and asking for a water refill. Several more minutes passed before anyone else spoke and this time, it was his father.

"So, those two in the waiting room, they're your... pack?"

His son sighed heavily and scrubbed a palm over his face. "Uh, yeah, I guess. Shi-- uh, I don't really know," he stopped speaking and growled softly. "I'm responsible for them now. Until I can figure this out, can we clear out the extra bedroom?"

"They're adults, Stiles."

"I know, but since I don't even know their names, let alone anything else, I figured it would be better to, I don't know... Fu, grrrr."

The sheriff chuckled softly, and rubbed slow circles against the back of Stiles' neck. "Son, if ever a situation demanded a curse word or two, this is it."

Stiles grinned, despite the chaos churning in his belly. "Yeah. Did you bring me something to wear? I'd really like to go home now."

"Sure, let me get them from the front. Be right back."

As soon as his father was gone, Stiles turned to his best friend. "Is this going to end us, Scott?"

"No, no, no way man." His brother, in heart if not by blood, pulled him into a bone crushing hug, which Stiles returned equally as hard.

"Are you sure? I don't think I can take much more right now."

Scott leaned back. "We are pack, Stiles. Always."

"Even in a pack of Alphas, someone has to be on top."

"We aren't like them, Stiles. The Beacon Hills pack will be different. Our pack will be different."

Stiles blinked into brown eyes nearly as familiar as his own and reached out to his wolf. The beast lay quiet, curled up, attentive but not distressed. "Okay." He took a deep breath and released Scott. "Alright. We'll do this. But Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to tell Derek. And Peter's, well, his body is in the trunk of the car. No matter what else, they, Cora and Derek, I just thought... They should decide what to do with him. Again."

Scott nodded. "I don't know where they went, but Derek texted me a couple of days ago. When I told him you were gone, he-" Scott looked away and swallowed, his heartbeat pinging just a bit faster.

 _So fucking weird,_ Stiles thought as he registered the change. "What is it?"

"He'll be here in about three hours."

Stiles couldn't help it. His eyebrows might actually have migrated into his hair line. "Come again?"

"He said he was coming back, that it would take a few days. I let him know you were back and, um, different. He said he'd be here in about three hours."

Stiles really didn't know what to say to that, or hell, what to think either. "Okay. Right, well, so I guess that's good, right? Why the fuck Derek Hale would come running back to Beacon Hill because I went missing, you know, yeah, I'm just not going to bother bouncing that one around, it'll only prevent me from sleeping later, and I'd really like to sleep for about five days or so. So, yeah, there's that."

Scott's face was caught in the comical half-smile, half-awe he got when Stiles went off on a tangent. Shaking his head, the dark-haired boy just shook his head. "I am so damn glad you're here, Stiles. Just too fucking happy, man."

Thanking all the gods, the sheriff chose that moment to return, handing Stiles a sack. "Here you go. By the way, their names are Jeff and Heidi."

"Thanks, Dad. Just give me a minute." He shooed his dad and Scott out the door and sagged against it for a minute. 

While he was glad not to be a completely different person and glad to be home, he wasn't sure he felt his best friend's joy quite as deeply. Because, really, since werewolves became a thing in his life, well, Stiles hadn't exactly felt the jubilant energy. And if Derek was coming back...

Fuck it. One hurdle at a time. Snorting when he pulled his red hoodie from the sack, he pulled it on and chuckled quietly to himself. Man, he loved his dad.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Stiles groaned and burrowed deeper into his pillow. He wanted more sleep, didn't want to be awake yet. But the call of nature ( _really, so so bad Stiles_ ) throbbed in his bladder and with a grunt he pushed off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. As he eyed himself in the mirror, he didn't think he looked all that different, considering.

Skin still pale, moles dotting the flesh here and there. His eyes, this way, were still the whiskey-gold they'd always been. Hair still shorn close, though getting a bit longer after more than a month of no upkeep. He shifted his feet, ears picking up Heidi's movements in the guest room, and took in the line of his body. Muscles a bit more defined, maybe, but no more bulk and, sadly, also no more hair. He was never going to get chest hair at this rate.

With a sigh he turned on the shower and made a decision. He couldn't put off the face to face with Derek any longer. He'd carefully avoided Hale in those days after he returned. He'd been too unsure of himself, of what happened to him. But that was two months ago. Two months of finding out that psychosis was a running defect in almost all the other Alphas Stiles had ever met. Two months bonding with Jeff and Heidi, finding out they'd never put down roots with Meredith, that they had no other home or family. Discovering that their pack had numbered in the twenties until their dead-Alpha had tried to take over a pack in Colorado and got their group decimated.

Stiles and Scott spent a fortnight acclimating to their shared leadership, about a week after he returned. There'd been a couple of bumps, his best friend unsurprised that when push came to shove it was Stiles, with his silver limned eyes, who took top position. Scott said it was better that way, because Stiles would never be a prick about it, never use his place to take advantage or force the others to do things they didn't want to.

Stiles thought it was epically stupid that he was the big dog, especially since he wasn't exactly a super dominant, manly-wolf kind of guy. But how he felt didn't really make much difference, it was biology or supernatural evolution or whatever, but his beast was simply the badder ass. Or that's what Lydia said, anyway.

"Stiles?"

Heidi's soft alto came through the door and he turned to open it. She stepped into the warming bathroom, hesitantly, and he gave her a soft smile, opening his arms. Standing in a tee and boxers, he chuffed when she moved into him, hugging tight, tension bleeding from her posture. He lifted a hand, rubbing it against the crown of her blonde locks, covering her with his scent, reassuring the young woman.

"Sorry, brains running a thousand miles an hour."

"It's okay. I like the way your energy feels. It's," she laughed softly, "kind of calming, actually. Jeff and I are heading out. We'll see you in a few days."

"'Kay. Be safe, protect each other and your crew."

Heidi pulled back, her hazel eyes happy. "Yes, Alpha."

Stiles groaned and gave her a poke. "Heidi."

She giggled and stepped out of the bathroom just as Jeff reached the door jamb. Stiles repeated the cuddle and rub, still feeling a bit odd at embracing the six foot six, ripped line-backer of a man with fatherly affection. Both of the betas were older than Stiles by almost nine years, but it was what it was.

"If you need me, call. Dad says the wildfire is getting bad."

"Will do, Stiles." Jeff pulled back, his bright blue eyes not meeting his Alpha's gaze, but settling somewhere in the vicinity of Stiles' chin. "Um, I just want to, just-"

Stiles reached up and scratched Jeff on the back of the neck. "It's all good, bro. The fact that you and Heidi are trained fire people has only benefited Beacon Hills. And hell, the Chief needed good help, so its all win-win." 

They'd told Stiles how they'd been werewolf-ized. Meredith had found them trapped by a blaze several years back in SoCal. She'd offered them the bite or death, so... not exactly a fair choice to make. Stiles couldn't undo it, but he could give his betas back their free will, and he'd done so by letting them decide to stay, letting them choose to become a part of Beacon Hills.

The fact the Chief kind of owed him one was just a bonus and Dad said O'Brian was thrilled with Heidi and Jeff. It truly was win-win.

Jeff ducked his head, a soft smile on his lips. "I'm really glad you're our Alpha."

Stiles smiled, and it was only a little sad. "Me too, buddy. Now get, there's fires to put out and people to protect."

When they were gone, he stripped his clothes and stepped under the hot spray, absentmindedly washing his body as he contemplated the next step in creating a semi-healthy pack. He'd talked to Heidi about the two of them getting their own place, close to the Stilinski house but not in it. She'd blushed a little and he'd told her it was more than obvious she and Jeff were an item.

"Mates. We're mated. Meredith didn't like it, but it's biological and, uh, more than that. There wasn't anything she could do."

Stiles accepted her words, especially since none of his own research had ever turned up much about marriage or pair bonding or whatever in werewolf culture. He knew they made babies, hello born-wolf Derek Hale and all, but getting hard data on all that stuff proved more difficult to nail down than good translations of archaic Latin.

He'd almost asked Scott about it, but then decided to wait. One, because he was pretty much full up on Scott gushing about Allison (even if she was kind of with Isaac now) and two, he just really didn't want to add any more worries to his plate. Anyway, he hadn't felt the urge to spontaneously mount anyone or anything, so better to worry about real shit and not potential shit.

As he pulled clothes on, he looked out the window. That window had been the doorway through which many unexpected, terrifying, amazing things had come into his life. With a soft grin at his odd reminiscence, Stiles grabbed the phone and dialed Scott.

"Hey man."

"Hey. So I thought I'd drop by the warehouse. Is he still there?"

"Yeah. We all are. He and Cora are getting ready to head out."

"Not staying, then?"

He heard Scott moving in the background, waited a few moments for his friend to go on.

"I don't know, I mean he said no, they weren't staying. Something about needing to be away from the place where-"

"Yeah. I get that. So, I guess I can't put this off any longer?"

"You know, normally I'm trying to stop you from running head first into the unknown. Good to see changing gave you some self-preservation instincts. Finally."

Stiles laughed, he couldn't help it. He wasn't really sure why he was so hesitant to see Derek, couldn't explain the itchy-scratchy-tight stretch of his skin that had only gotten worse over the last couple of weeks, since Derek and Cora returned to town. Two months ago, he'd decided not to attend Peter's pyre. Not just because he was unsure of his welcome, but also because he didn't want to infringe on that moment; a time for those Peter Hale wronged to gain closure and satisfaction, or to mourn what had once been. Once the werewolf's body was ash, Stiles stayed away because he hadn't known how he'd react, so freshly turned, to seeing Derek again.

But he'd had two months to learn control, two months to adjust. He wasn't the spastic teenager he'd been and he refused to avoid the potential confrontation any longer. Stiles could only hope there wouldn't be a fight at all.

"I'll be there in five."

Shoving his shoes on, he grabbed his hoodie and headed down the stairs. His dad looked up from the table.

"The warehouse?"

"Yeah. The Hales are leaving, everyone is there. I should have come over as soon as they were in town, but, so awkward and with my whole, you know, thing, I didn't want to like wolf out on Grouchy McGrumpypants or stress Cora or whatever." Stiles shrugged and his dad gave him a grin.

"Yeah."

After the Nameton and Ms. Blake and almost dying, Stiles and his dad, as well as Scott and Ms. McCall had a long heart to heart. Having the sheriff totally in the loop, while dangerous for his dad, took an immense burden from Stiles' shoulders. And they'd spent the last couple of months patching up the cracks almost two years of lies had done to their relationship.

In fact, it had been the sheriff's idea to buy the old warehouse on the outskirts of town and fix it up, make it habitable and usable. With help from the twins, Aiden and Ethan, as well as Lydia, they'd had plenty of money to do what was necessary to make the building and the surrounding hundred acres of mostly-forest defensible. The fact that the warehouse butted up against the preserve, that it basically provided the opposite boundary to the Hale house, well, sometimes things just worked out that way.

"Who all is staying there now?"

"Ethan and Aiden all the time, Isaac sometimes, when he isn't here or with Scott. I said something to Jeff and Heidi about moving over there, I mean hell, there's plenty of room. But he said they want to be closer to me, at least for a bit. So I'm going to talk to Mrs. Johnstone in the next couple of days. See if her house at the end of the street is still vacant."

John nodded. "Good idea. Heard anything from anyone else?"

Stiles shook his head. "No, not recently. Although, the lack of supernatural bullshit does have me a bit on edge. Probably from spending the last couple years running for my life or saving someone else's just about every day of the week. So there's that." 

"Will you be home later?"

He shrugged and his dad laughed softly. Four months ago, his father would not have laughed, he'd have needed to know. Now, though, now Stiles might be physically seventeen years old, but he was no longer the boy he'd been before Scott was bitten, nor the high-strung teenager he'd been afterword. Neither of them acknowledged the change aloud, both reluctant to let go the familiarity of what once was, but it was truth regardless.

"Depends, really. Just because I'm not here, doesn't mean you get to cheat dad. Healthy dinner and you know I'll know if you fudge." He gave his dad a cocky grin and John shook his head.

"Go on."

With a quick wave, Stiles left the house, hopping into his baby and heading toward the warehouse. In hindsight, the shiver of anxiety, the ripple of anticipation that tripped down his spine was probably a premonition, but what the hell, it wasn't like Stiles had a bit-o-Banshee to tell him things like that.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only archive tag I'm using is underage - and only because Stiles is 17 at the beginning. In my opinion, dub-con is something that should only be tagged in reference to real-life type situations, and only if after the fact one of the parties involved really feels like they were manipulated into doing something they didn't exactly want - even if during the act, they were fully engaged. Since that isn't the case here, (werewolves are fantasy after all, too bad) and no one is feeling wrong after the fact, there's no tag.
> 
> Also, while there is no actual smut in this section, there is graphic language of a sexual nature and an impromptu ejaculation as a side effect of what occurs. Tags for explicitness are there for a reason - this will be an explicit fic, in every way that could be applied. If you're seriously underage, not ready to read something like that, or are disturbed by mention of male on male sex acts, please stop reading now.
> 
> Reader discretion advised.

Chapter 3

Stiles pulled into the parking lot, guiding the Jeep into his perfunctory spot closest to the door. He turned the vehicle off and sat there for a moment, getting his shit together and taking a deep breath, letting his wolf relish _pack_ before he got out and went to the entrance.

The door opened without the smallest squeak, not that it mattered. The six werewolves inside could hear a pin drop at a hundred yards. They knew Stiles was there and the humans were so much apart of the pack, they'd instinctively take cues from their lupine counterparts in an instant. His mind took off at that, thinking surprise parties were pretty much out, likely for the rest of their lives.

Stiles barely stepped three feet in the door, just enough to close it behind him, when Isaac bounded to his side, head ducked, throat offered, and pushed his face into the crook of Stiles' neck.

"Hi! I was starting to worry. I thought you were avoiding us."

Stiles smoothed a hand over the boy's back and had a fleeting wish he'd been the one to kill the fucker who'd damaged Isaac so badly. "Nah, man. Just trying to get Jeff and Heidi acclimated, and my dad. Plus, I wasn't really sure-" He stopped speaking mid thought as a scent tickled his nose.

Overruled by instinct, he buried his face in Isaac's hair and there it was again, so very faint, almost imperceptible even to his super sniffer. Regardless, it compelled Stiles, had his more human parts scrambling to keep up with the wolf that was suddenly pushing, stridently, at the edges of his being. It wanted _out_ , it needed to find that smell, to have _more_ of it. The beast was almost panicked, as if the aroma wasn't real, a fantasy, _find it, find it_.

"Stiles?" Isaac spoke softly from the curve of Stiles' shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Struggling, fighting more like, the strength of the wolf's will, Stiles released the beta with a soft pat on the back. "Yeah, yeah. It's all good, Isaac. Why don't you go find Scott for me?"

"Okay." The other male reluctantly released Stiles and padded away on bare feet.

Stiles, on the other hand, slumped against the wall closest to him. He couldn't focus, eyes screwed shut as he reined in the wolf that was near to exploding where it paced and panted, chafing against its humanity.

"Stiles?"

Lighting, crackling with power and ozone, ripped through him as Derek's voice punched into his ears. Stiles took a jagged breath and _there yes there THERE_ the unique smell of the other man slammed into his lungs, his blood, with the force of a thousand sledgehammers. _Holy fucknut, Batman, this shit escalated quickly._

He honestly didn't remember moving, but he must have because the next thing that registered was Stiles' leaner form pinning Derek Hale against the wall, growls and snarls pouring from his mouth where it was pressed to Derek's neck, hard enough to cut the inside of his lips against his wolfy teeth. Distantly, like the hum of a gnat, Stiles realized Scott's clawed fingers were curled into the curve of his shoulder, deep enough in the flesh to bring blood.

"Stiles! What the fuck? Stiles!" Scott jerked at him, but Stiles refused to relinquish his hold on Derek.

He felt a shudder cascade through the bigger male, felt the soft growl rise up through Derek's throat against his lips and somehow, someway, managed to pull back from the werewolf's neck just enough to look up and see those grey-blue, and sometimes green, eyes flash ethereal blue a moment before Stiles knew his wolf flashed in his own eyes. Derek's response was telling, eyes widening a moment before his gaze dropped and he strained to expose more of his throat.

Stiles wolf whined in his head, confused at first, then angry, snarling. No, this was wrong. The scent was not beta, it couldn't be, it was wrong. Possessed by an imperative Stiles could not begin to grasp in those microseconds, the wolf drew on their magic and plunged overlarge, overlong teeth into Derek's flesh, the delicate place where neck met shoulder, biting deep, tasting blood. Stiles howled against the skin, the muscle, the sound vibrating inside the tight grip of his jaw. Power flared inside him, rushing outward, knifing fast and sharp into Derek's core, down deep beyond meat, beyond bone. Magic poured from their connection and straight into the beta's wolf.

"Fuck!" Derek's entire body convulsed, clawed hands coming around Stiles, sharp talons digging into the slighter man's back, throwing Scott's grip off, pulling Stiles hard, close, tight enough to crack ribs, or worse, if the younger male wasn't changed. 

Nails tore through fabric, chest pressed to chest, knees banging into each other, hips grinding hard as whatever exploded between Stiles and Derek rendered them little more than feral, locked together in a savage embrace. It couldn't have lasted more than half a minute, then the Alpha with silver-ringed eyes pulled away, licked long stripes over its mark, tasting heat and strength and _right_. A soft grunt, pleased. Everything was good, now, the smell and the eyes were as they should be. Satisfied, and tired from magic not its own, it receded, curled deep inside Stiles, releasing its temporary control.

He let go of Derek as if he were afire, stumbling back, falling onto his heels before lurching back to his feet and collapsing against the sofa several feet away. "Holy shit, holy shit, I have no idea what- What the fuck, oh my god, what. The. FUCK! I don't have a clue what just happened. I never have control issues.. and what? The wolf can use _magic_? Oh shit, fuck me, what the **hell** was that sick fuck **thinking**! God **damn** it!"

He took a deep breath, praying he could get it together before Derek pulled himself to his feet from where he'd dropped when Stiles released him. But breathing didn't help, because the bleach salt scent, layered with pine and earth, branded itself on his brain and his lungs and brought the wolf back to wakefulness faster than water through a collander.

"No, god damn it, no." Stiles focused, closed his eyes and found the wolf, exerted his will with a powerful snap of energy inside. His beastial side responded immediately, easing back, letting itself fall into the magic, ceasing to be another entity, returning to the blended power of what once was Stiles and what was now.

"Dude? Are you - are you alright?" Scott's voice was raspy, shaky, sounded like he'd wolfed out. 

"Gimme a sec, man. Shit, I'm losing my shit." He kept his eyes closed, slowly working through his body, one muscle at a time, until the tension wasn't so tight he thought he'd snap in half. He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to have to apologize to Derek, to Scott for whatever the hell that had been, didn't want to meet those ever-changing eyes and know he wouldn't be able to hide what he knew, or ignore Derek's reaction to coming in his pants while held in place, against a wall, by Stiles' teeth.

And his cock took that moment to completely engorge with blood, pressing blatantly, unavoidably against the rough placard of his jeans.

Fucking hell, what episode of _The Twilight Zone_ had he just fallen into? He wasn't even sure he was into guys, not really, in fact he suspected he was more into the person, and not their parts (not that he'd had much opportunity to test that theory). Anyway, though he and Derek had become sort of frenemies, or more friendly frenemies, before all hell broke loose with Blake and Deucalion, he'd only thought about the guy, sexually, in passing. Alright, maybe more than that, but no more or less than any other sexually ambiguous teenage boy would. Fuck, they could barely stand each other on a good day, like when saving one another's ass.

Apparently, his body hadn't gotten the memo though because right then, the only thing he wanted was to tear off Hale's clothes and rub his cock through the cooling come he could smell on the other man's groin. His entire body gave a shudder, hips lifting a bit at just the unbidden mental image Stiles created to accompany the thought. What the hell was going on?

"Stiles?"

He opened his eyes and looked at Scott and would have busted up under different circumstances. His friend's face had shifted back to human, but the shock, disbelief, and utter bewilderment chasing across his features and through his gaze made him look absolutely absurd.

Instead he shook his head. "I have no fucking idea what just happened."

Derek snorted and tipped his head back against the wall. "Yeah, well, I do. Except I have no idea how."

Irritation tingled through Stiles blood. "Well don't just keep it to yourself, Derek. Generally, when you do that, bad shit happens."

The other man's relaxed posture snapped taut and a growl rumbled from his throat. His chin leveled out and he opened his eyes... his crimson stained eyes.

Scott made a weird meeping sound and swung his gaze toward Stiles so fast Stiles thought the guy would get vertigo.

"Don't look at me, Scott." Stiles' body coiled, power thrumming beneath his skin as he felt his features bleed to animal, gaze locked on Derek's, anticipation screaming through him and breaking a smile across his lips. A real one, without tired or worried edges. "I think we should take this outside. I'm feeling a little antsy."

Derek snarled and his face shifted as well. "Fuck you, Stilinski."

"I'll give you to the count of five, Hale. Then I'm gonna let myself go. I'd rather not destory the place, but..."

Derek snarled and shoved to his feet. He looked around, took note of what neither he nor Stiles had been aware of before, and that was the entirety of the pack, plus Cora, standing behind Scott, faces anxious, worried, confused. He rumbled again but seemed to decide and was out the door between one blink and the next.

"5...4...3..2.1." Stiles shifted further, full Alpha form overtaking his soft human skin, and howled with joy. And then he gave chase.


	5. Chapter 4

Stiles didn't even bother weaving around the cars. Nope, totally wolfed out he leapt over the top of the few in his way, Derek's scent hot, pulsing along his synapses. He didn't even bother to pause, just ran full out, the sound of his quarry's footsteps the proverbial carrot to his mule( _...or rabbit to his wolf?_ ). Either way, though Stiles was being led by drives he didn't understand, at least now he was more his cognizant self than he'd been a few minutes ago. And he was a bit out of his element, the wolf in him hadn't ever been so potent, so motivating a presence before and despite his discomfort about what had happened in the warehouse, Stiles' rational mind stood no chance against both the wolf and his innate curiosity.

That being the case, he couldn't help the slip shod, runaway freight train of thoughts bouncing through his skull as he fled after Derek's retreating body. When he caught the giant sourwolf, he was going to pin him to the ground until the jerk started talking. And not the usual grunts and glares and freaking eyebrow shit, either, because really, who thought eyebrows were good for expressing the full range of emotions.

Speaking of, Stiles was still reeling from the fact that Derek had gotten off on being bitten. More than that, he was a little queasy at how visciously he'd done the biting, could still taste the copper-rich, heady flavor of the other man's blood on his tongue. It really was too bad he couldn't just sit down and have a nice chat with his wolf aspect. It might be helpful, especially when it decided a _good plan_ was using magic without permission and taking over the body.

_Hey, are you paying attention? I know, we're all one being, but what the hell? Help an ex-human out, man, why the hell are we chasing Derek all over the Preserve?_

Per usual, the only info the wolf seemed capable of sharing, their attention somewhat divided as it was, were sensations. Fun, and good, and happy, and a deep desire to prove itself worthy. Stiles would have shook his head, were he capable. He really should have followed up with Deaton, found out what the whole silver ring was about, seen if the Druid had any books or scrolls or shit, tweets, for advising one on living with a dual nature.

A flicker of movement was all the warning Stiles got as they plunged deeper into the forest. Derek barreled into him, roaring and snapping as they rolled over and down, through the thick, loamy smell of rotting leaf litter and damp earth. Stiles huffed, the closest thing the wolf could do to laughter, and easily broke the other werewolf's hold. Spinning, he faced Derek's Alpha form and took a moment to assess.

A thousand things danced through his mind, the distance to the largest, tallest tree, the span between saplings, the startled burst of adrenaline coursing through a nearby stray cat. Head cocked to the right, just faintly, Stiles watched Derek out of the corner of his eye, and panted softly, pretending he didn't really notice, or care, about the steady rumbles of 'keep away' pouring out of the other wolf's mouth. He acted as if he didn't see the curl of lip, the flash of white teeth, sharp and large, the threat inherent.

Derek eased backward, just slightly, and Stiles pounced, fur rippling over power in the form of muscle, and brought himself down directly onto Derek's back. He used his forelegs to trap the other male in his hold, opening his jaw, pressing his own teeth against the scruff of Derek's neck, holding fast, deep enough to catch muscle but not hard enough to break skin. Derek trembled, growling loudly, and bucked beneath Stiles, trying to escape with one breath, then pushing up into Stiles' bite the next.

 _Yes, good, happy._ Stiles tried to ease off Derek, feeling a weird mix of happy and awkward, especially when parts of him he really wished would stop trying to have thoughts of its own began to stir. It took just about everything he had to let go of Derek's neck and draw away, though the wolf refused to move far, basically just off the other Alpha's back to press haunch to shoulder next to the other animal.

Derek didn't move, didn't even really relax, so Stiles pushed against his shoulder and licked at his ear, trying to convey the best he could that his less four-legged side was really sorry about whatever the hell was going on and would really just like to chat it out, or at least not fight-fight right now.

Derek growled, not a sound of anger, but more... well, like eye-rolling. Stiles' wolf whined, the sound small and tinny, surprisingly, as it left his mouth and he shifted forward, rubbing alongside Derek, trying to soothe, to ease, to fix whatever the hell this was. The longer Derek held himself stiff, the more human Stiles became, at least as far as the wolf would allow, until he faced the other wolf, tongue hesitant, lapping over muzzle, nose pushing into one ear, rubbing faces gently, trying to coax Derek into relaxing.

When the irritated huff finally came, Stiles' tongue lolled a bit and he backed up, dashed left, then right, then back at Derek, dodging the paw that swiped out. _Yes, play, come, play!_ He must have been telegraphing intent clear enough, because the light shifted in Derek's red gaze, a spark of something Stiles was pretty sure he'd never seen before, a moment before the other male tried to pounce.

Leaner, lither, Stiles evaded but gave Derek a nip to the flank, a poke before taking off deeper into the forest. He heard a sharp, snapping snarl, then the sound of undergrowth and thin twigs breaking as this time Derek Hale gave chase. And Stiles loved it, if he'd been human he'd have fallen to the ground with peals of laughter, but as the wolf, he simply chuffed, turned his head to mark Derek's position and gave a burst of speed.

He knew where he was going, knew the route by heart, as he lunged and dodged trees, Derek, rocks and other detritis. Stiles broke into the clearing by the lake running full bore, whipping his body around to face Derek as the larger, more heavily muscled werewolf burst through the brush. Panting hard, he let Hale slam into him, let Derek loom over him, sharp teeth pressing against his shoulder, belly to the sky. He was good, great, happy to give the other Alpha a moment.

Not that it lasted, no, his wolf squirmed, back legs coming up to throw Derek off at the first deeper press of teeth to his vulnerable throat. The other male wasn't pleased and charged, their bodies slamming into each other, rolling over and over as they fought each other for the superior position. Derek grew angrier, with each failed attempt to pin Stiles, but the younger man took no offense. It was only after likely an hour or more of trading swipes and nips, blows and head butts, when Stiles wolf started to ache and really just wanted to curl up and nap, pressed tight to Derek's side, that he took control.

A hard shove found Derek prone on the ground and Stiles wasted no time, burying his teeth in the furred neck, gave the other male a hard shake, not to hurt, but to be clear. _Done now._ Like he flipped a switch, Derek went slack, body utterly compliant and Stiles released the other wolf, pausing a beat before his snuffed the face, breathed deep the scent that screamed _right mine good happy_ through every molecule of his flesh. He laved a tongue over Derek's cheek, lapped briefly at his ear which garnered him an irritated head shake, before stepping over the larger body and laying down behind it. 

Stiles kept his form between Derek and the only side where danger might approach, pressed as close as possible before laying his head over the curve of the now resting Alpha's neck, shifting until Derek's head settled atop Stiles' forelegs. With a contented sigh, the wolf, well tired and settled, drug his human counterpart into the peace of sleep. Safe, protected and protecting, happy.


	6. Chapter 5

"Stiles. Stiles, fuck, wake up."

His eyes blinked open slowly, meeting Derek's from beneath a fringe of lashes. He wasn't exactly sure what the hell to say to the guy, especially when he felt the semi-rough pull-drag of calloused fingers falling from his shoulder and immediately wanted to bring that warmth back. The sun was setting. Its pink and orange goodbye danced off the well defined muscles of Derek's chest, glinting in his eyes, making them look more grey than blue.

Slowly, he felt the flush bloom. He was laying naked, totally bare-assed naked, next to the pond on the Hale property. Well, fuck, that was just perfect. Karma was really a bitch and Stiles fought not to grope and flail to cover himself. It was bad enough he was blushing so hard he felt the heat of it, smelled the penny-sharp tinge of blood racing just beneath the surface of his skin.

"So, this is awkward, right? Right, and I think I'm about full up on that for the day. Jesus Christ, how is it I always end up in these freaky fucking situations wth you? I mean, soaking wet treading water to keep your ungrateful ass alive, paralyzed and dropped right on top of you, shoved between you and an immovable object in a fit of pique, or the almost thousand times you busted into my room while I was having personal time. Shit, awkward doesn't even really cover it, you know-"

"Stiles! Shut up."

He lifted a brow, but tried to squelch the continuing rampage rolling through his mind from erupting out his mouth. Derek shook his head and looked like he might almost be trying not to smile. Stiles rolled onto his belly, only slightly more comfortable to have his pale butt in full view. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over his shoulder at Derek, let his gaze wander the tight, defined shape of the man's body, fighting any tingle of interest that might have been struggling to life. He wasn't into Derek that way, or at least he hadn't truly thought about being, and despite what happened earlier, he very much doubted Hale was into him either.

"It's called Sodari." Derek's voice was soft, barely more than the exhalation of air.

"What is?"

"Why you did what you did. Why I did."

"Gonna give me more than that, Derek? I mean, my brain's already ticking through what it knows, and I'm thinking solidarity or maybe like sodalis, latin for companion, comrade, intimate..." Stiles voice trailed off, breath hitching before he plowed forward, as he always did. "Mate."

Derek gave the smallest nod, faced turned away from Stiles. "Yes." The word might have well have been a bullet, the way it drove itself straight through the younger Alpha, the way his wolf perked up, the leapt, finally having a better expression for what it felt.

"Oh, no. No, Derek, that can't be possible. That doesn't make any sense, why the hell would mother nature, or father Lycaon or whatever pair off same-sexed werewolves? Or no, wait, before that even, what the hell do you mean... You knew? What the hell does that mean?"

Nudity forgotten, Stiles jumped to his feet, pacing, hands and arms cutting through the air as he tried to wrap his mind around what was going on, while at the same time angrily, no furiously, backing his primal instincts into a corner and ordering the wolf to _shut the fuck up for one fucking minute_ so he could properly deal with this... epic clusterfuck.

"Mating? There's almost nothing about it and trust me, I'm a teenager, I've looked. And what the hell, the way you say sodari, I feel like it should be capitalized, like it's more than just boning or breeding. Is that why my dick keeps getting hard? What the fuck, like it isn't bad enough your creeperific undead uncle found a way to turn me anyway, now I have to worry about the furry side trying to up and take over for a piece of ass-" 

Stiles wasn't even talking to Derek, no he was free form brainstorming, ten times the number of words speeding through his grey matter not even making it to his mouth. He turned, looked down at the ground, hands on hips and closed his eyes, but there was too much, too many thoughts, too much energy buzzing through his skin, and he began to pace again.

"This is fucking insane. I don't even know if I like guys, for the love of... Jesus Christ. Okay, first go to Deaton and figure out what the hell," he whipped around at the sound of fallen leaves crunching beneath heel. "Oh no, don't you fucking dare, Hale! Stop. Right. There." He knew his eyes changed, heard it in the warning bass of his voice, saw it in the lengthening claws of his hand.

Derek's shoulders dipped a bit, his broad back facing Stiles.

"You can give me some god damn answers before you slink off again. What is going on." Taking a page from the other man's book, he didn't make it a question.

"Sodari, and yes it's capitalized, is a specific kind of mated pair. Two Alphas, pair bonded. It's exceptionally rare, only happens between werewolves, and isn't something we'd ever let the wider human world know about."

"Why?"

"Because Sodari aren't average shapeshifters. One of them, always, is a magic-weilder, a turned human who keeps their power after the bite. The other is always a born wolf. And together, they're... they're like an Alpha pack, minus Deucalion, on their own. Combine them with a large support of betas, well, you can see why werewolves wouldn't want hunters to know."

"That isn't all of it. I can hear it in your heartbeat." Stiles watched Derek's body tense, but didn't say another word. He let the tension filling his body roll out on waves the older man had to feel.

"There's a story, a myth passed down from the first of us. At least, that's what my mother said. About how sometimes, when the moon fell dark a turn before the blue moon, a very special Sodari might find one another. A Sodari Anima."

Stiles fairly vibrated with anger, the fire of it burning through him. "Are you fucking with me, Hale? Fucking soul mates? What the hell, is this some kind of Harlequin romace and I didn't get the notice?" 

Derek spun around, eyes glowing red in the dimming light. "No, this isn't a fucking joke. Mating is a biological imperative, we're all driven by it. Sometimes, two wolves are bound deeper than science, a kind of mate where both the wolves and their humanity are perfectly paired. Those are true mates. Sometimes that happens with pure humans too, where both aspects of a werewolf claim a person as their own.

"Sodari aren't always true mates. In the old days, witches and seers would be turned and mated, or the attempt at least made. But rarely, so infrequently it's a fucking _myth_ , Sodari Anima are true mates to begin with, but once the human is turned the magic allows a kind of bond, a _soul_ marking, that ties them so deep there's no way to separate one from the other. Literally soul mates, they are part of each other at a molecular and spiritual level."

Stiles reeled, brain processing, making connections, and suddenly all the warmth leeched from his body and he fought a wave of vertigo. "How long, Derek?"

The other man didn't say anything, the sharp edge of his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth.

"How fucking **long**!" 

The words rushed out, as if drug from the depths of Derek's body by the strength of Stiles' will alone. "Since the day in the forest. When I found you and Scott." 

Stiles felt his knees start to give, but he locked them and stayed on his feet. "You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch." The words were barely whispered. 

He heard Derek move toward him, likely compelled by the truth he'd just revealed. Stiles lifted his head, uncaring that the sheen of tears was unmistakable to Derek's enhanced vision. 

"Don't you come near me. All this time, all of this, you could have stopped it. _We_ could have prevented it. Kate, Matt, Gerard, the fucking Alpha pack, _Jennifer_. All of it. My dad losing his job, losing his **faith** in me. He and Scott's mom almost getting fucking killed. Me, you, Scott, Allison, all of it." 

"I wanted you to have a choice!" Derek bellowed the words and Stiles ignored the pain evident in the tone. 

"No you didn't. _You_ wanted the control. You made a decision, and damn the consequences." 

"This is forever, Stiles, there's no going back once it's done. I wanted you safe." 

"Bullshit!" Stiles spat the word at Derek as the first tear slipped past the lower lid of his right eye. "You didn't want to be tied to a sixteen year old _boy_. You're so caught up in your own drama, you own losses, god forbid... Never mind. You wanted to keep me safe, you wanted to give me choices? Then you should have told me." 

"You would have agreed!" 

"Yes! Fuck you, yes, I would have. Because of all of us, I'm the only one who is willing to sacrifice _everything_ to save the people I care about. Without hesitation, without back-stabbing and back room dealings. So fuck you, Derek Hale, for making me suffer far more than I had to, just to assuage your stubborn pride and your god damned Alpha machinations!" 

The last he delivered as he called the shift, Stiles body going from lithe young man to terrifying Alpha werewolf, silver and ruby eyes glowing brightly enough to cast shadows. He roared his rage, his fury, at Derek a split second before he tore off, back through the Preserve, back toward the warehouse, his car, and a life that could have been so much different if all the people he kept putting his trust in were just a bit more like Stiles was: selfless in a way that had nothing to do with martyrdom and everything to do with wanting to spare others the kind of agony Stiles' knew only too well. The loss of something irreplaceable and precious was something he never wanted people he counted important to _not_ experience. 

And Derek had taken that from him. Damn him to hell. 


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a scene that may be triggery, involving attempts to remove the remnants of an act - though willfully and consensually undertaken - that leaves a character feeling hurt and diminished afterward.
> 
> Reader discretion advised.

"Start talking or so help me, Druid, I will rip out your throat. With my teeth."

Stiles wondered briefly if later, he'd appreciate the irony of his statement. He gave a tiny mental shrug, as he stared hard at Alan Deaton. Stiles hadn't bothered with politesse when he'd sought out the man, he'd just stormed through the locked front door and stalked through the building until he cornered the object of his search in his office. 

Stiles moved closer, stepped directly into Alan's personal space and growled, a terrible, awful sound of loathing, agony, the kind of sound that balanced so close to despair it was almost indecipherable from the black, vile emotion.

Giving due respect, Deaton didn't pretend ignorance. Instead, the mocha-skinned man sighed heavily before slowly stepping back and taking the chair behind his desk.

"When Sodari were first discovered by the wolves, they turned to witches, druids, even healers and seers, in order to find proper matches. Every person with magic, when bitten, won't retain their previous powers. Often, they die, just as humans do. Those that live can be potential Sodari and thus gain a ring of silver around their eyes. A sign to other werewolves of their retained magic."

"Are they always Alphas?"

"No. I'm not sure what Mr. Hale told you, but originally, Sodari mates were betas. After all, they gain the same kinds of power amplification, but can be controlled. However, as time passed, fewer and fewer magic users survived the bite, and eventually those that did invariably became Alphas."

"How long did you know I was his _true mate_?" The words were bitter, they tasted foul on Stiles' tongue, but he uttered them anyway.

"For some time, Stiles. I told him to tell you. But he refused. You were a child, he couldn't handle the guilt-"

"Do _not_ lie to me. Not if you value your life or your position in this place."

Deaton lifted his hands a bit, palms facing Stiles. "I am only here to maintain the balance, Stiles. I cannot interfere beyond those parameters."

"You should have told me. He should have told me. I might have been a child the night Scott was bitten, but that hasn't exactly been the case since. Tell me what has to be done to make this bond complete."

Stiles could tell his focus, the single-minded intensity he gave not just the vet but also the topic unnerved the other man. _That's right, everyone's so used to fidgety, chatter-box Stiles, oh silly Stiles, the best friend, the side kick, Robin to Scott's Batman..._ Deaton, Derek, Scott, all of them underestimating Stiles, diminishing him until he could be of some service to them. No more.

"Scott said you marked Derek. Drew blood."

"I did. The wolf took control. It also used our magic to make Derek an Alpha again."

Deaton's eyes widened, as if he thought that might have been a possibility but never actually expected it to happen. "I see. In that case, the first part of the bond is set. He is yours now."

"What the ever loving fuck does that mean?" Stiles slammed his hands atop Deaton's desk and the wood surface cracked beneath his ire.

"It means you can see Derek like no one else ever will. Right now, I imagine his heartbeat sounds in the back of your mind. You'll know where he is, always, anytime. Soon, you'll likely start dream sharing. Most of the changes will be subtle. It will be background noise."

"You said he's mine. What happens to him?"

"He has to reciprocate the mark. My peers have advised me that when that happens, your magic will find its way-"

"Can't you ever just speak straight? Quit with the mystical mumbo jumbo and spit it the fuck out!" His talons surged from the tips of Stiles fingers, cutting deep gouges in the doctor's desk as his patience ran toward empty.

"If he returns your mark, your power will shift your essences, half of yours for half of his. You'll be able to speak telepathically, an empathic connection will grow as well. He'll be able to draw from your magic should he need it and you his. The wolf will rise to your call as it does to his will."

"And?"

"And if he is harmed, you'll pay the price. His wounds will be yours to bleed, your agony his to suffer. If he dies, so will you. There's no surviving Sodari Anima."

The sound of Deaton's heart thudded against Stiles' eardrums. "Tell me the rest."

"You, Stiles, will be able to gift the bite with intent alone. And possibly," Deaton swallowed hard, his gaze glancing away from Stiles' face for the first time. "It's unclear, but some of the books say you'll be able to breed and all offspring will be born werewolves, with the ability to use magic."

A lock tumbled open in Stiles' mind. "Oh my god. I'm going to be sick." He dashed from the doctor's office and into the small adjacent bathroom, stomach heaving acid bile. 

Had that been Peter's backup plan? Change Stiles, knock him up, then what? Kill their offspring and suck up power until nothing could stop him? _Find your strength._ Stiles supposed he'd figured that out at least, though knowing Peter there'd be more. There always was. He rinsed his mouth in the sink, splashed water on his face and tried to wrap his head around the seriously, totally fucked up place he was in now. With an angry grunt, he shoved out of the bathroom and headed back to Deaton's office, but something else Derek had mentioned tickled Stiles' memory. 

"Types of mates, explain them."

Deaton's gaze returned to Stiles' face. "Pair bonded or breeding pairs. Werewolves generally engage in that type of mating, just like humans. True mates. Shape shifters who are linked through both their humanity and their animal aspects. Rare and precious, a werewolf knows almost immediately when it has contact with its true mate. They aren't as tightly connected as the last type, but they're still stronger, faster, longer lived than their pair bonded pack mates. Finally, anima mates, something that can only be achieved with magic, either by the influence of an outside spell or with the true mating of Sodari."

Even in the midst of the shitstorm he called life, Stiles couldn't do anything other than be himself. "Jeff and Heidi are true mates then?"

Deaton nodded. "They are. You're very lucky to have them in your pack."

"I don't give a fuck about power. I want to know if there's anything I need to do for them, anything I should be aware of so that I can support them, help them, be the Alpha they need."

"You are doing everything they need. While I'm loathe to agree with anything Peter Hale said, he was right. Stiles, you're an excellent werewolf."

Stiles ignored the compliment. "Well, this has been a lovely chat, doc. But I have things to do and places to be."

"I'm sorry you found out the way you did, Stiles. For what it's worth."

"Not a helluva lot, Druid."

Stiles didn't look back as he left the clinic.

* * *

He jerked awake, chest so constricted he thought he was having a panic attack. The thundering in his temples was arrhythmic to his own heart and Stiles shook his head, trying to clear the erratic beat from his mind. He shifted on the sofa, sat up and stood, disoriented, the wolf shaking inside him with anxiety, pushing his human legs to walk, seeking out the source of the disturbance.

He moved silently through the warehouse, taking in the sleeping sounds of his pack. Scott and Allison were in one of the two bedrooms on the bottom floor, Isaac tucked between them. He felt the tingly zing of Lydia, and heard Aiden's soft breathing in the room off the kitchen. The stairs made no sound as he began to move up them, sensing Danny and Ethan in the room at the top of the stairs.

There were three more bedrooms besides that one on the top floor and two bathrooms, but Stiles didn't bother pausing at any of them. He headed for the room at the very end of the added level, his room. With a gentle push the door swung open, revealing the space. Stiles took a deep breath, _Derek_ swirling into his lungs. The man's scent eased the wolf, but only barely.

Stiles himself was not settled. Not in the least. He paused in the doorway, closing his eyes, just listening. He heard Cora shift in the room next door, sigh softly as she sank into deeper sleep. He heard the faint sound of a car out on the road. Opening his eyes, he noted the time on the red, glowing dial on his desk. Hours until dawn, he thought about powering up the computer and doing some of his own research, but he was still too angry, too fucking hurt, to do so.

Instead, he looked at the bed, saw it was empty, the blankets still perfectly made, untouched. A jab of irritation spiked through him as his eyes wandered the room, finally falling on the sleeping shape of Derek, lying without comfort, on the floor at the foot of the bed. Anger surged through him. What the fuck, the man had no blanket, no pillow, curled in a ball like a fucking _dog_.

Jesus! For a moment, he wished he could be like everyone else. Leave the asshole on the floor and walk away, but he couldn't. No matter how much he might have wanted to, which he didn't, he was physically incapable of leaving Derek Hale on the floor, wrapped in an old t-shirt and the misery of the older man's own making.

His chest tightened again, the strange beating in his head pounding so loud and Stiles understood this was Derek, panicked, stressed, that he felt as if it were himself. He didn't like it, not one bit. Growling softly, he stalked to the prone body, and with little preamble, he pulled the semi-conscious body into his arms, shifting a few steps to the bedside.

Stiles laid Derek on the bed, stripping the sheets back and under the heavier male before making what was probably one of his less intelligent decisions. With a little more effort, he made space and climbed in beside Hale, drawing the blanket over them. As soon as Derek shifted, giving Stiles his back, the younger man curved around the broader body, and the tension in his chest, the jack hammering pulse in his head calmed, faded.

He hated it as much as it drew pleased, contented rumbles from his wolf. In the closeness of the moment he heard Derek's voice, choked and broken.

"I'm sorry."

Stiles fought the urge that flexed his muscles, shifted his position, but he was too tired, too hurt, and the wolf too insistent. He lost the battle. Curling his left arm around Derek's middle, he pulled the other werewolf tighter to his body. He hadn't forgiven Derek, he didn't want Derek, he refused to pretend otherwise, but there in the dark, what he wanted most were a few moments of peace.

"I know."

* * *

Sunlight bled into the room but Stiles refused to open his eyes. Sometime in the preceding hours, he and Derek shifted position, so it was his tall frame held tight to the other man's body, back to front. He felt fingertips curl against his belly and fiercely kept both his heart and his flesh under control.

Derek shifted as if he might pull away, and Stiles took hold of his forearm. He knew Derek was aware of his wakeful state, so he didn't bother to pretend different. Instead, he took a breath and made a choice.

"Do it."

He felt the muscles in Derek's body coil like a spring, ready to snap at the slightest pass of air over his skin. "Stiles."

"I said do it, Hale. We can't leave it half done. For how much it makes me slightly hypocritical, I apologize for yesterday. I'm disgusted with myself for marking you without your okay. The fact that I didn't know what the hell was going on might mitigate things legally, but it doesn't absolve me. Clearly, no one wants this now, but what's done is done and leaving it incomplete can't be a good thing. Shit like this is never good when its left open-ended. I don't know what happens next, I don't want to talk about it, I don't really want to even look at you- Oh my god!"

Derek gave him no warning, his arm tightened around Stiles' chest the same moment he struck, teeth sinking deep into Stiles shoulder, pain and not-even-close-to-pain rolled him under with tidal force. He heard the growl trip past his lips, felt his own claws burst from his fingers, finding an anchor in the flesh of Derek's forearm, as magic rose, an eruption of power, to explode outward.

His back bowed under the onslaught, body gone from soft to rigid to over the edge between one heart beat and the next. Stiles was overwhelmed, not just by his near instantaneous orgasm, but by Derek, because with every jerk of his cock, Hale became more and more a part of him. His skin, his scent, the soft places the older werewolf tried to hide, the sharp, vicious edges of his anger, the jagged, unhealed edges of his pain.

The magic didn't help, it intensified the sensations, amplified everything. He felt it pulling, shifting, moving parts of Stiles he knew he'd never physically see or touch, but were as integral to his life, to his existence, as air and water. A jolt of electricity burned between he and Derek, the final exchange and when he felt that part of him replaced with its twin of Derek's, pleasure took them both under.

It should have been biologically impossible, but Stiles roared as he cock spilled again. The heat of fresh, hot come landed against his lower belly, on the sheet where the head of his cock pulsed hard enough to slip out of his underwear briefly, along his inner thigh where the sticky fluid pooled from the first release. He felt the responding reaction from Derek, fiery and slick, against his back, bleach and the forest assaulting his senses as one potent pulse after another clung to the curve of his right ass cheek, plying the cotton of his briefs to his flesh.

They stayed, suspended in that moment, for several breaths. Stiles felt drunk, really drunk, his entire body buzzing so hard he was dizzy. He was covered in seed, his and Derek's, his shoulder throbbed, and the wolf was pretty much stoned out of their mind. And despite the animal wanting nothing more than another go, Stiles wasn't interested in indulging in anything more with Derek. He growled, both at his wolf and the other man in the bed, before wrenching free the confining grip and standing.

He looked down, the shimmer of ejaculate catching the early morning light and regardless his other side, Stiles was possessed by the need to get it off. The place on his ass where Derek spent himself was like a stain and Stiles had to remove it, now. He walked into the attached bath preternaturally fast, slamming the spigots in the shower on, turning the water as hot as he could stand before stripping off his underwear and stepping inside.

He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed his skin, futilely trying to undo what he'd done, his reasoning so far from sound that even Stiles thought he might be going nuts. Clenching his jaw, he tried to rein in the rising panic, tried to compartmentalize the chaos whirling in his head and heart. The door opened, and through the clear plastic curtain he saw Derek.

"Stiles."

"You know what's fucking hilarious. I've just tied myself to a dude, like forever, and I get the feeling I won't be testing any other waters now. And that dude doesn't want to fuck me either, not if he had a choice at least. So looks like I should totally try for monkhood, 'cause I don't think I'm ever getting rid of this virginity thing. Things could be worse, right? I mean its not like I just had my first non-solo sexual experience with someone who came all over my ass without even looking at my face or anything."

He was really deteriorating here, and it would be fantastic if Derek could just leave him the fuck alone.

"Stiles."

"I mean, at least I had the decency to look at your face when I marked you. But what the hell, right, you don't want me, I don't want you, it's better this-"

"Stiles!"

"Get the fuck out, Hale. Get out of my bathroom, get out of my room. Stay the fuck away from me."

He watched Derek curls his hands against his thighs, saw his chin drop to his chest. The plastic blurred his image, but Stiles didn't need to see the man clearly to know he was fighting with himself, wanting to do exactly as Stiles dictated, but unable to ignore the freshly imprinted _need_ to ease his _mate's_ hurt.

So Stiles made it easy for them both. He called the wolf, the dumb dog fighting him the whole way, and put the force of his position into his voice. "Leave, Derek. Now. Leave the warehouse. Only the warehouse. If I find you've left Beacon Hills I will hunt you down. You don't want that."

"No."

"Go."

Turning on heel, a low, agitated growl of his own left to taunt Stiles, Derek did as he was bid. Sagging against the shower wall, Stiles tilted his head toward the ceiling and exhaled loudly, willing his trembling limbs to quiet. He needed to talk to the pack, Scott, explain what was going on, try and figure out where to go from here. 

"Shit. At some point, it would be really great if the crisis and drama could revolve around the mundane. I'd take a fender bender or a failed exam with a smile and shout of joy right now."

His voice echoed off the stall and Stiles shook his head, stepping under the spray once more, rinsing away the last remnants of yet one more life-altering situation.


	8. Chapter 7

"So, you and Derek are like, partnered, then?"

"It's so much more than that, but yeah, in a nutshell."

Stiles looked at the collected faces around him. The expressions ranged from softly pleased (Allison) to skeptical (Scott) to fear (Aiden) and something like awe (Ethan). The rest fell somewhere in between, except Cora who seemed both angry and relieved. 

Stiles filed that nugget away, sure to turn it over when he was alone. He intended no offense to Derek, but what little family the guy had managed to retain after the fire all seemed completely bent and determined to fuck Derek over, either just for shits and giggles or to serve some twisted ulterior motive.

Talk about dysfunctional. Also, as far as Stiles knew, Cora still hadn't explained where she'd been for the last six or seven years. And she hadn't exactly headed to Beacon Hills intent on reuniting with her brother. No it seemed more like she'd been trying to sneak back in without notice, which set off every one of Stiles' danger-Will-Robinson-alarms.

Pushing aside thoughts of Derek's sister, he turned back to Scott. "Look, this is our pack, so I apologize for not talking with you before I, before we," he sighed and shook his head. "It can't be undone. What I want, right now, is to hear everyone's concerns. I'll address them as best I can."

"I know you and Scott have an understanding, but where does Hale fit in?" Aiden piped up from where he sat next to Lydia on the love seat.

Stiles looked at the other man. Unlike Scott, Stiles held his judgment of the twins in reserve. Yes, they'd both taken sides with the Beacon Hills pack when things came to head with Deucalion and the Darach, but... Despite Peter's comments on the power of human love, Stiles wasn't ready to fully trust Ethan or Aiden.

So, he called his wolf, only to eager in this moment to put the other werewolf in his place. Eyes flashing, he curled his lip and growled, and Aiden curled in on himself a bit, throat bared in submission.

"If Derek thinks he wants top position, he can try and take it."

"Fair enough." Ethan looked from his brother to Stiles and back again. "So does this mean Derek is part of the pack? Or wait, did he ever actually leave it?"

Scott spoke up then. "He left town, but I never felt like he'd left the pack. He's still an Alpha, or is again, or whatever." Stiles' best friend shrugged his shoulders.

Stiles nodded. Trying to keep track of shit like that, who was what and why and how long was a full time job, one he used to do almost as a hobby, but now did for necessity. "He is. That makes five of us, Alphas, five betas - if Jackson ever comes back and if Cora decides to stay - a couple more than human, but still humans, and Danny."

Cora said nothing, looked everywhere but into Stiles' searching gaze. However, Danny grinned when Ethan pulled him close and Stiles gave him a wink. This drew a chuckle from the other teenager and everyone else seemed to breathe out their worries. 

"You realize a pack like this is going to draw attention." Aiden piped up and Stiles wanted to stuff a sock in the guy's mouth.

"In all fairness, after the Nemeton and Darach, we already know Beacon Hills is a giant, well, beacon on the supernatural map. But this pack wields an enormous amount of power, if what I dug up on Sodari Anima is even half true." 

Lydia, strawberry-blonde goddess, the once-flame that had burned in Stiles' heart. Even when he'd known he had no chance with her, after kissing her, he'd still felt a spike of lust just looking at her lovely face. But staring at her now, he felt affection tinged with disdain - for how she'd treated him, for using him, and for never being able to return his feelings- but no attraction. Nothing at all.

He didn't let his internal agitation show. "From what I've gathered through Deaton and some of the books salvaged from Hale House, yeah. Look, I'm not even gonna try and say the shit won't hit the fan, probably in spectacular fashion, all feeling 'like I'm standing in a graveyard' style, or that there isn't going to be some adjustment issues. I chose to complete the bond because I don't care about that shit, we can work through it. I want to be able to protect you, to defend us and Beacon Hills, when the next monster of the week rears its ugly head.

"We are one unit. One cohesive pack and I won't allow anyone or anything to break us apart again. If we've learned anything over the last couple of years, it should be that working together, with all the cards on the table, is a good thing. No more poker faces, no more hiding, no more underhanded deals with our enemies. If anyone here isn't on board, you know where the door is. Leave now. Because if I find out someone isn't obeying that command, you won't have to worry about becoming omegas. I'll kill you."

No one said a word for several moments, no eyes met his as Stiles looked over every face, even Scott kept his gaze lowered.

"Alright, enough of the heavy. What the fuck guys, lets get some food and then Pack Time!"

Everyone laughed and slowly made their way to the massive, open kitchen, the sound of cupboards opening, bread being laid out, the happy camraderie of the pack loosened a bit of the tension in Stiles frame. Pack Time was all about bonding. Mock battles, sometimes training, watching movies, talking to each other. It kept them close, reinforced their connection to each other and the whole.

"You're a great Alpha, Stiles."

He knew Derek was there, had known the moment the other man had returned to the property, long minutes before he'd come inside.

"Maybe someday. For now, I'm winging it." 

They didn't say anything for several moments, and Stiles heard the pack begin to quiet as they picked up on the stress of their Alpha. Sighing, Stiles turned to look at Derek.

"Join us. You and Cora."

Derek hesitated. "I-"

Stiles lifted a single brow.

"Alright. Okay. I'll go get her."

"She's standing on the other side of the wall." He motioned behind him, toward the hall that led to the kitchen. "You should know better than to eavesdrop that close, Cora."

The young woman stepped inside, head down, though Stiles was wary of her. For some reason he'd yet to define, he wasn't sure he actually liked Derek's sister. She was pretty enough, would be a strong fighter once she had a little more training, but he doubted her loyalty. And that wasn't something anyone who knew Stiles, and wanted to stay on his good side, would ever want.

"Thanks, Stiles."

He nodded. "You don't have to decide now, but soon. I'll give you a week, Cora, to join or not. Whatever you choose, you'll be welcome here whenever you want to visit. Whether your brother stays or goes."

He didn't want to talk anymore, so Stiles turned on heel to join the rest of his family in the kitchen, leaving the Hales to make up their minds.

* * *

"Come on, Isaac, you'll have to do better than that." Stiles laughed heartily, dodging around the teen, repeatedly tapping him softly with the small stick in his hand.

"Stiles! You're faster than me."

"Then use your brain. Calculate. Don't just rush in, think about your strategy, think about what you can do to make my speed no longer an advantage."

He watched Isaac adjust, watched him still for a moment, guiding his instincts instead of instincts guiding him and when Stiles made his next feint, Isaac anticipated the movement, stepping into his body, wrenching the stick from his hand. He wasn't fast enough to tag Stiles back, but that didn't matter.

"See! That's what I'm talkin' about, man. Awesome job, Isaac, awesome!" He leaned in and thumped the boy on the shoulder, giving him a little squeeze before stepping back and motioning to Allison. "Hey, come spar with Isaac, will you? I want to see what Aiden and Ethan are up to."

"Ethan's wrestling with Scott." Allison moved into his space and laid a palm on his forearm. "Hey, you okay?"

"Me? I'm Stiles, I'm always okay, right? I mean, paralyzed by a Kanima, turned out fine, beat to hell and back by your evil grandpa, totally turned out fine." It was a jab, but the truth.

She frowned a little, but understood. "I'm here, so is Scott. If you need us, _when_ you need us."

Stiles didn't make the snide comment that first hit his tongue. The past was gone, there wasn't anything anybody could do to change it. But he heard the truth of Allison's words, smelled the warmth, the depth, of her connection to Scott, to him,and gave her a small smile. 

"Thanks."

He didn't think his little grin gave Allison the impression everything was rainbows and ponies between them, but it seemed like everyone had been more than happy not to bring up the shit they knew they'd done to Stiles before he'd been bitten. And he was just as content to avoid it as well. Thinking about the past year or so was down right self-flagellating and Stiles really didn't dig pain.

Eventually, he didn't even try to fool himself, someone was going to push too hard, too far and Stiles would vent the darkness that seemed to get just a little bigger around his heart every day. Maybe it would help if he did, but he wasn't ready to deal with that, not yet. Pacing off from Isaac and Allison, he watched Scott and Ethan for a few minutes, noting the twin's weaknesses, appraising the gains Scott had made over the last several months.

He found Aiden giving Danny pointers on effectively avoiding slashing claws and slobbery teeth. Stiles was impressed, despite the other twin's animosity toward the young man who'd garnered his brother's affection. But he was being careful of Danny's very human body and giving him good advice. Not far away, Cora and Lydia were sitting, heads close as they looked over a book in Lydia's lap. Stiles wasn't sure if he liked the idea of Lydia sharing information with Cora, but in the interest of the young Hale joining the pack, he let it go.

He walked until he came to the far corner of the warehouse, leaned back against it watching, guarding, smiling occasionally as a swell of laughter lifted from somewhere nearby. He felt the pleasant hum of contentment emanating from the rest of the pack and relaxed a little more against the heavy steel at his back.

"You don't join them?"

"We rolled around a few times, in the beginning, but it wasn't exactly fair. Whatever the hell I am, not even Scott is a match for me. I mean, he's stronger, yes, and a bit faster, but he's too much wolf, is guided too much by the primal side. I'm not." He paused for a beat before looking over his shoulder at Derek. "Usually." He smirked, just a bit, before returning his attention to the larger group again.

"Maybe you should try someone who's been a wolf longer." 

Stiles didn't need to see the dip of Derek's brows to hear the slight frown in his voice. He shook his head, a bit of self-deprecation and a bit of amusement fluttering in his chest.

"I took the twins in their combined form. Didn't even break a sweat."

Derek snorted, the sound comforting in a way. "They're both too quick to attack. They leave themselves vulnerable."

This time Stiles did chuckle. "You wanna spar, _old man_? Fine, let's go. One rule - no wolves. Just you and me, mano a mano, one on one, human fists and human-"

"Shut up."

He turned, saw the tiniest lift of Derek's lip and grinned as he pulled off his hoodie and t-shirt. He watched the other man's pupils expand, felt an answering surge of desire heat his own blood. It hadn't been his intent to display his bare skin to entice Derek, but he couldn't ignore the way the older man's gaze roamed over his torso made him feel. Still, that wasn't what he was after, didn't know if he'd ever be after it. 

Derek copied his movements, jacket and shirt discarded nearby. Unlike the other werewolf, Stiles could control his eyes, though it was a feat of extraordinary willpower to do so. Lifting his chin a bit, Stiles put his left hand up and made a come hither motion. "Let's see what you've got, Hale."

Neither of them took a boxing stance, instead they both held their arms loose at their sides, fingers only slightly curled as they circled one another. Stiles eyes took in every movement, each step, watched Derek's nerves transmit intent in the tug and pull of muscles, and waited. After a few minutes, he relaxed even more, standing straight, stopped in place.

"Someone has to make the first move, Derek. Otherwise it's kind of a wasted effort."

Derek moved before Stiles finished speaking, which the younger male expected. He sidestepped, cuffing Hale in the back of the head, sending him stumbling forward a few paces before Derek recovered himself.

"Wanna try again? I mean, I'm good if you want to be done. I know how little your ego can take, wouldn't want you to get all pissy, Sourwolf." Stiles felt the mischief building, couldn't help the spark of smugness that burst in his belly.

"So the spastic chatter isn't actually a defect." Derek turned and narrowed his gaze.

Stiles cocked his head. Yeah, he was actually gonna punch the guy in the face. Instead of dancing around, he stepped straight into Derek, close enough to unbalance his opponent, then slammed his tightly curled fist into one perfect cheekbone.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Ow, fuck! Ow!"

They both staggered back, Stiles shaking his head to clear the stars clouding his vision. Holy hell, his face felt like it was going to explode, it hurt so damned bad. _If he is harmed, you will pay the price._ Deaton's words floated through his brain and Stiles moaned softly. Well, that fucking sucked ass. So focused on that little revelation, he didn't sense Derek's attack until too late and took most of power behind the fist to his ribs.

Derek gasped, knees giving, at the same time Stiles gasped for air, felt the cracked bone resist the motion. He kept his feet, but only barely, his left palm curving around his side.

"Hurts like a bitch, right?"

Derek gaped up at him. "What the hell?"

"I guess I figured you already knew." Stiles shrugged, but couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face. "Apparently, when you hurt, so do I. And vice versa."

"Fuck. I cracked your rib. Jesus, that hurts."

Another shrug. "It'll heal. So, well, trading blows doesn't really seem like much fun, but... Well, this is a weakness. If you're staying here, it's probably a good idea to start working on a way to turn it to our advantage or at least mitigate its effect."

Derek retook his feet. "I'm staying, Stiles."

He hoped to god Hale couldn't feel the swell of relief tripping out from his stomach to warm his whole body at that statement. "Then maybe we should begin with letting one of the others wail on one of us. See how much it takes to push something to happen."

Derek looked at him for a long time, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't decide how to do it. Not exactly a surprising state for the other man, in Stiles' opinion. So he waited until Derek finally gave a small nod. "I'll go first."

He thought about arguing, but let it go. "Scott, Isaac, guys round everyone up. Its scientific method time." He didn't even bother to hide his evil smile, waggling his brows at Derek, earning himself a long suffering sigh and the hint of a grin in return.

* * *

"Oh, fuck, oh shit, fuck me, it's a damn thing good I can heal this shit in a couple of hours or I'd be pissing blood for a month. Shit, Aiden, you are fucking vile, you prick."

Said werewolf chuckled softly. "You said go for the jewels, Stiles."

"I know, but fuck, did you have to go with such gusto? Oh, god, I can't even sit down. Someone, for the love of god, get me some ice to jamb against my nuts."

He grimaced and looked at the pack, all of them except the humans sporting some kind of bruise or scratch or welt from testing Stiles' theories. After a very long afternoon of repeated beat downs, they'd learned some important things, so it was worth it. Or Stiles thought he'd think it was worth it, just as soon as his balls stopped throbbing.

The biggest discovery was that the instant either he or Derek was in danger, took a blow, the other immediately fought to protect and defend the one under attack, beta-shifted, snarling and snapping. So he and Derek had worked on accepting the information, but controlling their instincts, so they weren't rushing blindly into anything.

The second thing they figured out was that the pain-sucking thing the werewolves did was different in Stiles. He didn't have to touch Derek to do it, in fact once Derek was hurt enough, he could draw on Stiles magic to ease the pain. Or Stiles could direct his magic at Derek and accomplish the same thing.

Stiles' thoughts traveled back to the present when Danny and Lydia broke into peels of laughter, probably at the hissing and tentative bending he did trying to sit down. Allison smiled broadly as she made her way to the kitchen. God damn Aiden and his fucking Alphaness, Stiles grumbled to himself. If one of the others had tried to rip off his nuts, he'd already be healed by now.

"I'll get the ice." 

Scott smirked at his girlfriend as he cupped Stiles right arm gently, trying to help his friend find a comfortable place to light. "Damn, Stiles, you look like shit. Good thing you told your dad you wouldn't be home for a couple of days. He'd be pissed if he saw you right now."

"On the upside, if I told him about Derek and I right now, he'd take one look at Hale and decide the guy didn't need to be kicked around any more."

Derek snorted, the damage to his left eye repairing itself as he settled on the floor in front of Stiles. Not touching, but within touching range. "Not being able to talk might help." The words were garbled, but Stiles understood. 

He watched in fascination as the jaw Isaac had broken knit, good as new, beneath the purple tinged skin. His hand moved before he thought about it, fingertips skating over the bruise a moment before magic flared, soft, supple, up through his center, down his arm, and out into the warm flesh beneath his touch.

"What?" Derek's voice was soft, his whole body now turned into Stiles' hold. 

Their gazes caught and Stiles didn't look away. Instead, he pushed his fingers forward, skating them over the other man's jaw, to curl in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. "I don't know, just let me..."

Derek swallowed hard and gave an almost imperceptible lift of his head. Stiles smoothed his thumb over the ever-present stubble and let the magic come again, this time with more strength, more potency. He closed his eyes, fell into the connection, the warmth.

"St-Stiles." Derek's spoke on a gasp, one of his hands coming up to curl around Stiles' wrist, and the once-human felt the magic return, rushing through his own body, redirected from Derek, soothing his aches, the pain of multiple hematomas, the sharp rub of broken ribs. Healing the damage, healing both of them from their injuries.

 _So it looks like Stiles' pain-suck is real, honest to god healing. So fucking awesome!_ He knew he had a goofy look on his face, but he didn't care. His balls didn't hurt, his knee was no longer stiff. Stiles sighed loudly and just fell into the feed back loop of his magic flowing into and out of Derek.

"God damn." Stiles grunted, feeling like he'd just slept for days. Rejuvenated, healed, slightly slumberous, like he felt be in those moments just before waking from a good night's sleep.

"Whoa, what are they doing?" Allison's voice barely registered.

"I don't know, but am I the only one strangely turned on? Like really turned on?" Ethan's reply was no more effective than Allison's at drawing Stiles' attention away from Derek and the new power cycling between them.

He fell into a boneless slump against the leather of his chair, shifting his hand to burrow deeper into Derek's hair, even as the other man drew closer, his thick body tucked against the front of the seat, caught between Stiles' knees, his head dropping to rest in the middle of Stiles' right thigh, free arm wrapping around the same calf.

Damn, it felt so good, so right, Derek touching him, close to him. Higher brain functions were buzzing with distress, but Stiles just couldn't work up the energy to give a shit. Slowly, the magic ebbed, the need for healing no longer giving it reason to go on. But even as the energy dissipated, Stiles' retained the odd give and take of something from him to Derek and back.

Shifting slightly, he sighed and moved his fingers, smiling softly at the rush of pleasure the motion stirred in Derek. He floated on endorphins, humming pleasantly under his breath, giving in to his body, letting arousal wash over him, through him, filling him up until he was near to bursting, just from drowning in the sensation.

"Stiles! Man, Stiles!"

Scott's panicky voice jerked him back to the present. He blinked rapidly, trying to bring the room into focus. He looked at Scott, then away, the scent of his best friend's erection not exactly something he wanted to think about. It only took a few minutes to realize the rest of the pack was in a similar state, though only Scott seemed distressed by it.

"Uh? Shit, sorry? Don't really know what happened there." He tried to sit up, but found Derek's head and his hand around Stiles' wrist and calf kept him in place. He could have forced the issue, but it wasn't worth it then. He was too loose, too relaxed.

"Heard the phrase when momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy?"

Stiles nodded at Danny. "Sure."

"If I were guessing, since I'm not really all that well versed with werewolves, I'd say you were sharing your happy."

Lydia nodded. "Exactly. How you feel can bleed outward to the rest of us, sometimes. Especially when your emotional state is extreme."

"Really?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. I mean, its not something we really notice. The last few days have been pretty rough though."

"Well damn, I don't think I like the idea of projecting my personal angst onto everybody."

"You can go ahead and keep projecting that shit you just did anytime. Holy hell." Aiden looked flush, tousled, his hand clasped tightly around Lydia's.

Stiles snorted. "Gee, thanks. Oh, so yeah, I can heal-suck."

Several masculine chokes made him grin. "Sorry, sorry. I mean, I think I can heal, not just take the pain away. Scott, let me try-"

He grabbed Scott's arm and reached for his magic again, felt it flow outward, fill up his friend, blinked as the warm skin smoothed, blotches and scratches fading away. He felt Derek too, like an anchor, supporting his magic, balancing the power and he wondered...

"Derek, can you stop touching me for a minute?"

The man at his feet drew back, just a bit, and instantly the magic stilled in his body. "Okay, grab me again. Correction, Derek and I can heal-suck."

Another round of chuckles and giggles echoed through the warehouse, and Stiles grinned. As he motioned the pack to him, one by one, he found some of his pissed off over the mate thing, or whatever, disappearing, fading away as he fixed up boo boo's and put his pack back to rights.

Unbidden, his fingers wound themselves into Derek's hair again and a piece of that hurt, of the pain and anger Derek's omission caused him, was gone as well. He wasn't over it, but if bonding with the older man meant he could do this, be like this, then in Stiles' mind it was worth it.


	9. Chapter 8

Stiles' shifted in the bed, rolling from his side and onto his back. He didn't need his new werewolf senses to realize why he'd awoke. When Stiles' was human, he'd developed a kind of Derek-sense, a tingle that fizzled down his spine when the werewolf was near. A good thing, since the jerk had almost interrupted Stiles on Stiles intimacy several times, dragging his ass through the bedroom window and demanding research or answers. 

He sighed softly before drawing back the sheet. The night was deep beyond the closed curtains, a quick glance showed an hour past midnight on the clock. 

"Get in."

Derek's weight dipped the mattress, the heat of his skin pushing into Stiles' space as he settled next to the younger man, though without touching.

"Cora wants to stay."

Stiles shifted, lifting his head to curl an arm beneath it. "Then Cora can tell me herself."

Derek blinked slowly, but didn't say anything more about his sister. Instead, Stiles watched the muscle in his jaw tick for a few moments before the other man spoke. "I want to know about Peter."

"Derek, I don't think you want the details of how fucked up your uncle was. It's over, no need to rehash-"

"Tell me, Stiles."

He sighed again, but there was no heat in his voice when he started to talk. "I don't remember the kidnapping itself. I'd been in my room, thinking about," Stiles glanced at Derek from the corner of his eye. He didn't want to explain what he'd been thinking that day, how he'd been trying to figure out a solution to the empty feeling inside.

"I must have dozed off, but when I woke up, I was in a cell." He huffed a laugh at the memory. "And you know, I was almost relieved. After everyone left, Beacon Hills got pretty fucking boring. Then I started wondering what the hell cluster I was in this time. That's when Jeff came in. He didn't say anything, just put a tray with food on it, outside the bars, and left."

"Your beta?"

"Yeah. Anyway, so it went like that for a couple of days. Then your uncle showed up, with Meredith, and hatched out his plotty-plot, creepy as usual. He, uh, he told me if I wanted to live, it'd be best to go with the flow. Used my dad against me."

"How."

"Said if I died, it'd leave him all alone. And if that wasn't on my to do list, I should probably get with the program. I stopped fighting then, but I looked in his eyes when she bit me, told him I'd end him."

"Did he-"

Stiles rolled to face Derek, propped his head on one palm. "He said, 'I know'. Look, it was fucked up. When I was talking to Deaton, um, after the whole lake thing," Stiles looked away for a second, definitely not wanting to rehash that right then. "He said something about breeding, about that being possible or there's a myth that it could be, you know, between same-sexed pairs that are, um, like us. Anyway, I don't know if that was Peter's goal, or what he wanted. Maybe he just planned to mate me-"

"He couldn't. Probably not even a pair bond."

Stiles ignored the comment. "Anyway, he said some weird shit about 'finding my strength', went even more weirdo, creepy pedowolf two seconds before I killed Meredith and him. That's it. I got Jeff and Heidi to haul his body to their car and bring us back here."

"Scott said you didn't kill Peter in Beacon Hills."

"No. We were about a hundred miles or so from here. I don't know how I got there, I don't know how he got me out of my house to there. I don't remember it."

"I'm sorry." Derek's voice was soft, but the truth of his words wasn't any less potent.

Stiles growled, not harsh, more irritated. "Stop saying that. Did you tell him to find a way to turn me?"

"What? No." The reply came sharp, with a hint of pain, as if the idea Stiles could think something like that physically hurt Derek.

"Then you have nothing to be sorry for, at least not as far as Peter's shit goes. I don't want to hear it again." He closed his eyes for a minute and drew a deep breath, the soothing, warm, _welcoming_ smell of Derek's skin, of his wolf, too tempting to ignore any longer. 

"You know, I'm not sure I like how quick you are to apologize, now. I mean, shit, how many times did you smash me into a wall or damn near get me killed because you were doing sneaky shit? Never heard a sorry then."

Derek gave an odd, hitching sigh, but didn't say anything.

Surprisingly, he wasn't really mad about that. Big, bad Alpha Derek Hale wasn't about to apologize to weak, jittery, _human_ Stiles. He got it, sort of, at the time. Now that he was an Alpha, he figured Derek had actually been fighting himself _not_ to apologize, not to be more of a Creepy Stalker than Stiles had thought he'd been. 

Because Stiles knew the sort of instinctive imperatives to _protect and defend_ his pack. To make sure everyone was alright, to see his werewolves and accumulated humans were safe and healthy. Stiles had always been a giver, watching out for everyone else, trying to help any way he could, but as an Alpha it was like what had once been an urge became a need, as important as food and water.

"I should have. I should have said a lot of things, Stiles."

"Yeah, well, you never were all that good at using your words, Sourwolf."

Derek gave a choked sound and Stiles saw the ruby flare of his eyes in the darkened room. "You're wrong."

Stiles smirked. "About what?"

"About why I didn't tell you. It didn't have anything to do with you being a sixteen year old boy."

"Bullshit."

"Werewolves aren't homophobic, Stiles. The gender of a body doesn't really matter."

"Umm hmm. So the guy with the totally straight sexual history was totally cool with suddenly getting wood for an awkward underage male?"

" _Yes_. I was, I am, totally fine with the fact that just hearing you breathe gets me so hard I could drill through concrete."

Stiles drew a very deep breath, schooled his heartbeat, focused hard on keeping his body under control at the frankness of Derek's confession. He managed, mostly, to not react, but there was nothing he could do about the way his cock thickened.

"The underage part, though, still bothers me."

Stiles pushed up to sitting position. "Oh, what the fuck? I swear to god. You know, I get not having the age of consent be, like, twelve or something. Not that it seems to stop twelve year old's from getting knocked up. But sixteen isn't a child."

"Maybe not if you were involved with an eighteen or nineteen year old. It is when the person is twenty-four."

Stiles snorted, but didn't argue. The other man might have had a point there, not that he would ever say that out loud. "Whatever. So what was it then?"

"I didn't... When I came back here, I didn't expect to find anything but my sister. I didn't plan to stay here. I wasn't going to stay here."

Stiles wasn't sure what to say to that, so he simply sat there, facing Derek, who remained on his back, softly-glowing red eyes trained on the ceiling and waited.

"And then I saw you. You and Scott, looking for his inhaler. I smelled you and it was... I didn't want it. I got my whole family killed, I couldn't - you were _human_ and young and I was so angry, am still angry. I felt old, broken, wrong, and I looked at you and I wanted, suddenly I wanted so badly. Fuck, I'm not good at this."

Stiles cleared his throat. "Keep talking, Hale."

"That, right there. That's it, the thing about you I can't get over. The thing that rolls through me, has me slamming you into hard surfaces and fighting every instinct that screams at me to, to, I don't know. _Everything, anything_." Derek's voice is throaty, the wolf pacing behind his eyes, vibrating in his muscles.

"What do I do?" Stiles ignored the huskiness of his own tone, tried to set aside the more ardent pressure between his legs at the vulnerability in Derek, laying there, the pieces of him he chose to expose to Stiles, protected only slightly in the low light of the room.

"You push, you always push, and even when I could smell the fear on you, hear it in the rapid-fire pulse of your heart, you never really backed down. You gave a shit, but you didn't pity me, you never cut me any slack. I needed it, god damn it, I needed it but I hated needing it, even though I knew you were," he paused, stumbled over the word neither of them was really comfortable saying. "Important. To me, hell to Scott, to the town, to the pack. But I didn't expect it to be like that. So fierce, so hard to think beyond, _primal_. I thought, I thought it should be like the other pairs I grew up with, like my parents. Those mates didn't seem to have friction, they supported each other but in the way a spring rain makes flowers bloom. Not the way wood feeds fire or the clash between the sun and a cold front births a storm. But you never backed down, you never gave in to weakness. You argued, cajoled, _snarked_. I was, no I am, scared shitless of you. Of how I feel, of not having-"

"Control."

"Yes, but not because I wanted to use you, or for some power trip."

"Then why?"

"Because the things my nature wanted... I could have- I would have... I didn't want to hurt you. It made me sick, the idea of hurting you. You didn't seem to be into guys, not really. And you didn't want the bite-"

Stiles scoffed softly. "I did. I lied to Peter. He knew it and I knew he knew it. I didn't want it from him, for sure, and at the time part of me didn't want to lose my humanity. I didn't want to be a danger. But I still wanted to be a werewolf. It only got worse over the last year. Being left behind, always left behind, because I was breakable, because I was fragile. Worried sick about who would be hurt next, killed next, taken next. I hated it, I hated all of you for doing that to me."

"We only wanted to keep you safe."

Stiles huffed. "Maybe, a little bit yes. But all of you were also pretty wrapped up in your own shit. Scott with the Argents, you dealing with Cora and Peter, the Alpha pack, _Jennifer_." He tried to keep the ugly sneer out of his voice, but it was impossible. 

Just the idea that Derek had been with that thing, had been buried between her thighs, _rutting_ with the bitch that tried to kill his dad, Scott's mom, Allison's dad... He didn't want to admit he was more enraged the Darach had her hands on Derek, her mouth, and tongue, and _skin_. 

He wouldn't admit that, wouldn't acknowledge how badly his wolf wanted to punish Derek for that transgression and then spend hours, days, making sure his scent, _Stiles' mark_ , was so deeply embedded in Derek's flesh it could never be washed away or forgotten again. A living reminder, smell lifting with body heat and breath, forever there to remind Derek to whom he belonged.

"Stiles?" Derek's tone was hesitant, as if he sensed the battle of wills taking place inside the body next to him.

Curling his fingers into his palms, letting the razor sharp nails cut deep into his palms, Stiles controlled himself, forcing words past his lips. "So basically, because I didn't just roll to my back and submit, and the fact that you didn't want to stay here, and that I might not be gay, those are your reasons for not telling me what was going on?"

Derek growled softly. "That's over simplified and you know it."

"Like I said, whatever. Look, I don't know for sure how I'd have taken it. I mean, yeah I'm always asking gay guys if I'm attractive, but I had a hard on for Lydia Martin for like, uh, ever. But honestly, we aren't fucking now, so its not like that part - if it even has to happen - couldn't have been dealt with later. If ever."

"Stiles-"

"Second of all, no one ever said you had to stay. Didn't seem to be too difficult for you to go when you did. In fact, you're welcome to leave now."

"I can't."

"Legs suddenly don't work? Car out of gas?"

"I can't leave _you_. What part of forever did you fail to grasp?"

"Forever bound in some magical fuck up does not mean the same as 'hey, we're now conjoined twins'."

"I don't want to leave. Not then and not now. I won't leave."

Stiles gave a small smile. "Better. Not can't, but won't. World of difference in those two words."

"You're a real dick."

"Yeah. I learned from the biggest."

He watched Derek frown a bit. "I liked you better when you were just a smart ass."

"So did I." Stiles turned around and climbed out of the bed. It was almost two, everyone was asleep, but he was too wound to go back to bed. 

Changing had eased some of his jitteriness, some of the flailing and jerking of his muscles, but most days he was still filled with a relentless, unebbing amout of energy. The biggest difference now was that he could run forty miles an hour for a few hours and burn a shit ton of it off. And no more Adderall to fuck his head up either.

"Where are you going?"

He tugged off his t-shirt, dropped the loose sweats riding low on his hips. Naked, back to the bed, Stiles rolled his neck and shoulders and gave the wolf a nudge. "For a run." He stalked to window, opened it wide. He gave the wolf the lead, glancing over his shoulder at Derek.

"You can come if you like."

Without waiting for an answer, Stiles shifted to beta form and jumped out the aperture, body in motion before his feet hit the ground. As his legs churned, part of his mind attentive to the terrain, the other part replaying the conversation with Derek. He didn't know how to move forward with whatever this was, his human side more than reluctant to even consider doing so. He didn't know what he wanted, fuck, most of the time he wasn't sure what he was doing was even the right thing.

But he couldn't afford to be weak, couldn't afford to be distracted. They'd had two months of quiet, almost three months of it before Peter'd taken him. And it made Stiles edgy, almost nervous. He could feel something churning, the sharp, scratching itch of it digging under his skin anytime he tried to relax.

Derek was right, though, he'd give almost anything to be the smart-assed, disrespectful, kind of shy sidekick he'd been before the change. Despite the bruises, the beat downs, the being left behind, it had been a hell of a lot easier that what he was now.


	10. Chapter 9

Stiles didn't stop running for a while, weaving in and out of the trees, chasing a deer or two he scared up, but eventually he slowed down, retook his human form. When he did, he almost shook his head at himself. Looking up at the remnants of the Hale house, he realized he really shouldn't have been surprised. After all, this broken skeleton was the rotted, decaying symbol of why his life was what it was.

The damn fire, Kate motherfucking Argent. As his gaze cast over the broken windows, the collapsed roof, he wished his magic was strong enough to send him back in time. Alone, in the wee hours of the morning, standing in front of that building, Stiles was honest with himself. He didn't want to change the past because he hated his life or didn't want Scott to be a werewolf, or didn't want to know, to have seen, all the horrible shit he had in the last couple of years.

He wanted to go back for Derek. For Cora. For their mother and father, for crazy-ass Peter. Not just them, though, but for Allison and Scott, for his dad. The sheriff worked the fire, had been deeply affected by the charred remains of the Hale children, of the babies, innocent of any and all transgressions. The fire that destroyed the Hale pack was a travesty that stained the people of Beacon Hills, a glaring, horrific defilement of the town itself.

Fists curled at his sides, he looked up and wanted to erase what happened there so badly a scream built in his chest, his eyes grew damp, his breath shallow. He wielded so much power now and still it wasn't enough, it might never be enough, and his thoughts flashed to Derek.

So lost, cast adrift in the place that had once been _home_ , Stiles empathized with losing someone so important their absence was an ever present shadow in one's heart. But losing his mother wasn't the same as losing _everything_ , everyone who thought a body had value, who loved and was loved, who gave support and who Derek supported in return.

It was no damn wonder the guy was a walking cluster fuck of dysfunction and yes, Stiles understood and accepted that truth. It didn't justify Derek's actions, but it explained them, at least some of them. Sighing, he turned from the house, wandered slowly around the perimeter, and contemplated how to move forward.

Jeff and Heidi were still fighting the wildfire and would be gone another few days. According to Derek, Cora wanted to officially join the pack and he'd need to tend to that. With Scott, then later with Erica, Boyd, and Jackson there'd been no ritual, more an implicit inclusion. But since he'd returned changed, Stiles researched werewolf rituals and joining or leaving a pack was a pretty big deal. The somewhat lackadaisical fashion with which both Derek and then Scott approached it wasn't wrong, but it also wasn't right.

The joining ritual bound the new wolf more closely to the pack. It was important, reinforcing the free choice made and the honest acceptance given. When Stiles had realized how much closer his pack would be, he'd put it to the group and they'd all agreed it was a good idea. It took a lot out of them, the joining ritual, and thus far only Jeff, Heidi, and Isaac had gone through it.

Ethan and Aiden said they wanted to as well. Perhaps they could do the twins and Cora at the full moon? The ritual wasn't necessary for he or Scott, as they were the Alphas of the pack, but it was extremely beneficial for those that wanted to join their family, including other Alphas. The downside was both he and Scott had been totally wiped after they'd done the first three. 

Making a mental note to talk with Scott, Stiles turned back toward the Preserve and began the long trek back to the warehouse. He hadn't gone far from Hale House when he felt another presence nearby, one he'd have recognized as a human, and one he couldn't pretend not to now.

"You decided to follow after all."

"You're thinking very loudly." Derek stepped from a nearby tree, equally as nude as Stiles. The younger man didn't miss the fact that his companion had deflected the observation.

"I have a lot on my mind, which, no shit, obvious. It's too quiet, too long since someone stirred the pot. I need to talk to Scott, see if he's ready for another joining ritual, ask you if you want to go through with it too. If you do, should we have yours this full moon, and leave the rest of the pack for the next, so you can help with the burden. If that wasn't enough, I'm constantly trying to figure out what I'm overlooking, who I'm failing to provide for and in what way. If I'm not pulling my weight, what do I need to do to make sure I can. I'm wondering about Deaton, if he has any more books or sage insight," Stiles chuckled then, "to offer. And of course, I also have a calculus test next week and a ten page paper comparing and contrasting _A Tale of Two Cities_ and _12 Angry Men_ due by Friday in English."

"Uh."

"Yeah, so loud is about right. Sometimes I wish I could just turn it off." He gave a shrug and moved a bit closer to the tree line.

"I forget you're still in high school." Derek fell into step beside him and Stiles tried to ignore the fact that both of their cocks were partially erect, swaying with each step they took.

It was a bit distracting, to be honest.

Stiles cleared his throat and kept his chin parallel with the ground, eyes scanning around them, ears listening for anything out of the ordinary. It helped bring his body under control, though it didn't alleviate his bone-deep awareness of the man at his side.

"Yeah, well, I won't be too much longer. Dad and I discussed it and we both agreed it'd be better for me to graduate early. So, I have about another three months and then done."

"Are you going to college?"

Stiles shrugged. Once, he'd had plans to go away, maybe Berkeley or USC, but that wasn't an option any longer. "Maybe NWCCC, I'll just have to wait and see."

"The community college in Maycrest?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. I can get a criminal justice associates there, maybe take classes online for a BA afterward."

Derek didn't say anything but Stiles felt the surge of anger from him. He snorted a little at that, righteous indignation that Stiles' thought his dreams of the future were no longer viable.

"You could still go away for college."

"Maybe I could. But Berkeley's like four hours away. I won't be able to just run back to Beacon Hills at the drop of a hat if the shit hit the fan. Scott's a good Alpha, I wouldn't worry he couldn't handle things, but-"

"It's not the same. And they'll know it's not the same. They need you, your support, your reassurance. They need their Alpha. But you're more than just Alpha, Stiles. You have to do things for you too."

Stiles stopped walking and turned to face Derek. "That's pretty wise from the guy who stumbled and bumbled and basically fucked his Alpha-ship from here to kingdom come."

Derek's brow furrowed. "Yeah, I fucked up. Doesn't mean I didn't have an inkling about what I shoulda done."

"You just ignored it."

At least Derek had the grace to look chagrined. "Yeah. I did."

"The first step is admitting your mistakes." Stiles smirked and made to continue onward, but the curl of Derek's fingers around his bicep stopped him short.

"I should have told you. Not right away, but by the time you'd kept my head above water for three hours... I should have told you. I shouldn't have shut you out, left you worried and scared, not knowing what was happening. I don't want to spend the rest of our lives paying for those mistakes, Stiles."

Stiles clenched his teeth. He fought with himself, with this bond they'd created, the urge to soothe the guilt, the ache in Derek nearly overwhelming rational thought. Truth was, he didn't want to harbor all the anger either, in fact he hadn't ever been very good at staying mad. But he refused to give in, absolutely would not act as if... marking Derek and being marked in return suddenly meant he trusted the guy or that bygones would immediately be bygones. 

Slowly, he turned his head and met Derek's gaze. They stood that way for several moments before Derek's eyes shifted their focus, glancing at his hand on Stiles' body. He released the arm and looked away.

Stiles sighed, and wanted to kick himself for wanting that heat, that touch back. "Listen, Derek, how about we make a deal."

The heavier male shifted his feet and returned his gaze to Stiles' eyes. "I'm listening."

"This situation isn't ideal and things are wonky at best, but how about we start from the beginning."

Derek frowned and Stiles' heart wanted to kick at the familiar expression. "The beginning?"

"Yeah, what if we tried to be friends, like real friends, and just see where it goes from there?"

Stiles watched Derek consider his words, watched as they sank in. "It's been a while since I had friends."

"No, Derek, it's just been awhile since _you've_ been a friend. But I get that, and the skills may be rusty. I bet they're still in there, though. I'll be blunt here, but if we can't be friends, I don't think we can ever be anything more. I don't trust you, Derek, not the human me anyway. And I don't know that you trust me either. If this is going to work at all, if we're ever going to be as strong as we can be, as a set or a pack, we need trust."

"I trust you, Stiles."

It was his turn to frown. "Fine. Doesn't change how I feel. So, are you willing?"

Derek's gaze traced over his face and he slowly nodded. "Where do we start?"

"We start by getting to know each other, like friends do. We hang out, we bullshit, we talk about our families and our past, eventually. We watch movies and play video games. We find out if we like each other. One step at a time. No pressure, no expectations. I'm not the same Stiles I was, either. Maybe we don't go farther than that, but we can build trust and respect. That's what I'm offering."

"Yes."

Something unfurled in Stiles, a tiny flare of hope, a small spark warming a place well hidden from even those closest to him. "Great. Race you back?"

"You're on."

Their bodies shifted, feet moving over leaf litter like the rush of a breeze, neither giving an inch, but neither pushing as hard as they could either. As the blackest part of the night darkened the sky, Stiles and Derek made their way through the Preserve, side by side, each of them quietly glad they weren't alone.

* * *

"Morning, Cora."

Stiles gave the young woman a nod as he piled bacon on his plate. She dipped her head in response, but gave him a wide berth as she made her way toward the stack of empty plates on the island.

"Good morning, Stiles."

"Your brother said you wanted to tell me something."

"Didn't he-"

Stiles cut her off. "There are a couple of rules in this pack. The first one is if you need something, you ask for it. It isn't a power trip, no one is looking for rolling on your back or baring your throat. But I'm not mind reader and neither is Scott. We do our dead level to make sure everyone is safe and secure, has what they need, but if we overlook something, it's your, each of the betas, responsibility to come to us and tell us what's going on."

Cora Hale wasn't shy, she wasn't demure. The quiet, somewhat reserved girl he'd seen over the last few days was completely different from the slightly aggressive, brash one he'd met so many months ago. As he watched her spine lengthen, watched her chin come up while her eyes stayed respectful, he thought maybe she would prove to be worthy of Derek's affection, of his loyalty.

"I want to join your pack."

"I'm glad to hear it. We do a joining ritual and though it's voluntary, it goes a long way to cementing your place in the pack. You willing?"

She cocked her head a bit and nodded. "I don't remember what that is, but yeah, I am."

"I'll talk to Scott. If your brother chooses to undergo the ritual, then we'll probably do yours next month. You and the Twins. How about you fill up a plate and come sit with me on the deck."

"Alright."

Stiles grabbed several pieces of toast and a bottle of water before exiting the kitchen. He made his way out of the open kitchen and onto the massive deck that ran along the outside wall of the building. Despite only getting a few hours sleep, he actually felt pretty good, more relaxed that he had since the Hales returned at least.

Cora joined him and they ate in silence for a few minutes before Stiles lowered his fork and picked up a slice of bacon with his fingers. "So," he took a bite, savoring the salty-smoke deliciousness of fried pig. "Wanna tell me why you weren't thrilled with your brother finding his true mate?"

He gave the young woman credit, she didn't actually choke on her food, though her eyes widened fractionally. "Why do you care?"

He smiled softly at the sense of deja vu. "I care because your brother has shitty family. Peter tried to kill him, manipulated him and the pack, threatened to kill me, almost killed Lydia, kidnapped me again... Do I need to go on? So far, the Hales I've met seem to be out for blood, usually of the familial kind."

He wiped his mouth on his napkin and took a drink of water, before putting the power of his rank into both his tone and his eyes. "So, I'll ask you again. What's your deal?"

When he'd been human, Cora had looked at him with a bit of disdain most of the time, tolerated him sometimes, and was actually pretty cool the rest of the time. He'd also saved her damn life. The minute she registered his eyes, felt his power rolling off his body, though, Cora Hale proved her beta-ness. She didn't get smart, she didn't try to challenge him. She lowered her eyes and answered.

"I'm not out to hurt Derek. I swear. I, uh, there are things I'm not ready to talk about - from after the fire. But I wouldn't do something to bring him harm."

Stiles listened to her heart, it's calm, even beat and nodded. "You seem to be telling the truth, though I won't give you a false sense of security. If I discover you're lying, I'll gut you myself."

She swallowed hard. "Fair enough. I am, I mean, I'm glad he found his mate, though. I don't want him to be so alone." She looked away, her gaze turning inward for a moment. "He seems so lost, so lonely. I don't remember him ever being that way, distant I mean. He needs someone to watch out for him. To keep him grounded."

"He has you."

She glanced up, eyes not lifting above his chin. "It's not the same."

Stiles gave a noncommittal sound. "What else?"

"I only just got him back and now I'm losing him. To you, the gawky, odd-ball human who never showed him much respect, who couldn't ever leave well enough alone."

Stiles took another drink, ate some more bacon, considered his next words before speaking. "You aren't losing him. And I'd never make him choose. Ever, Cora." He emphasized those last words, watched a bit of tension bleed out of the girl's body.

"I know he doesn't exactly talk about his feelings, but I think you should know something, Cora. Derek loves you, he loves you so much he almost died for you, voluntarily. He's going to fuck up, going to forever be an overprotective shadow behind you, but that's because he can't lose you again. So long as you reciprocate what he doesn't say, what he probably can't say right now, I promise, it'll get better. I promise to help it be better."

The girl's eyes blinked rapidly. "Okay."

Wanting to turn the topic to something a bit less somber, Stiles ate the last of his bacon with a grin. "So, college?"

She relaxed into her chair, retrieving her fork and digging into the meal. "I think USC. Our dad went there."

"Have you filled out the aps? Looked into aid?"

She nodded. "Yeah, got my acceptance letter while we were gone. We have plenty of money, but I've got a tuition scholarship."

"Spring or next fall?"

"Spring."

"USC isn't so far. I'm cool with everyone doing their own thing, so long as they come back at the full moon. That's non-negotiable. And if there is any trouble, at all, even if it's just a tingle of unease, you call. Talk to Scott, me, your brother, hell one of the other betas. We'll be there, we'll check it out, we'll keep you safe."

She nodded. "I understand."

Wiping up the crumbs from his toast, Stiles stood and picked up his dishes. "I hope this is the start of a good thing, Cora. I hope you start to believe you aren't losing your brother, but gaining a shit load more brothers and sisters."

She gave him a small smile. "Me too, Stiles."


	11. Chapter 10

"Did he agree?" Scott was hunched over an algebra book, shoveling pb and j's into his face at near light speed.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Dude, fucking chew. Christ, I do not want to have to put 'choked to death on sandwiches' on your headstone."

Scott took a moment to flip him off before he picked up his fourth sandwich. "Did he?"

"Yeah. So did Cora. I think we should bump Derek to this full moon, do Cora and the twins next month."

Popping the cap off the gallon of milk, Scott tipped his head back and chugged almost half of it. "Think it'll be as bad as it was last month?"

Stiles sincerely hoped not. He'd felt hungover for a fucking week. "I don't know. But I did some more digging and with him joined to the pack, Derek'll be able to take part of the load moving forward. I imagine Aiden and Ethan will too. Depending on how bad it is with Derek, we may have to split the twins up."

Scott nodded and scribbled some more numbers on his homework paper before setting his pencil down and shifting in his chair, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the kitchen table. "Are you doing alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Stiles, we've been best friend's since we were seven. Even if you weren't the Alpha, even if I weren't a werewolf, I know when you aren't fine."

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"I don't really care. C'mon, man, fuck. Why won't you talk to me?"

About a thousand reasons crowded Stiles' throat, just waiting for the air and the opportunity to spew forth, but he bit his tongue and held the words back.

"Stiles? I know you're worried, I know you're constantly on edge, expecting the worst, never relaxing, never taking a breather. Dude, you have to ease up, cut yourself some slack-"

"Why, Scott? Why should I cut myself some slack? Between you and Derek, you damn near got everyone in this pack killed, about a thousand times over, because you had your heads so far up your asses, or someone else's ass, you couldn't be bothered. I," anger rose, and Stiles struggled to keep it at bay, "I won't make the same mistakes. I won't."

Ire flashed in Scott's eyes, but they stayed human. "Taking yourself to the verge of exhaustion isn't any better. You're of no use to the pack if you're so strung out your mental health is shit. The other day proved that, Stiles."

"Don't talk to me like you have a fucking clue. I'm aware my moods affect the pack. I also bothered to learn how to stifle that from happening, outside of extreme cases _like_ the other day. And you know what, fuck you, Scott. Just fuck you. It's a little late to worry about me now, don't you think? I mean, maybe if you'd bothered being my best friend a few months ago, we wouldn't be having this little chat now."

Scott's eyes flashed red. "That isn't fair, Stiles."

The other young man barely got the words out of his mouth before Stiles had him by the neck, Alpha roar bellowing up from deep in his belly. He slammed Scott into the nearest wall, aware the noise had drawn the attention of the pack but possessed by a fiery anger, and hurt, so overwhelming he was helpless against it. He could only barely stop himself from lashing out with physical violence, but the amount of willpower it took to do so left his language filter utterly disabled.

"Don't you tell me about not fucking fair. You think it's fair that my mom's gone? Do you think its fair that I lied to my dad, for more than a year, to keep your secret, to keep theirs? Was it fair that all of you used me for what good I did you, but more often than not overlooked me otherwise? Is it fair that I pined for Lydia for _years_ only to finally realize there's no chance that's ever gonna happen? Don't you _ever_ talk to me about fair!"

He gave Scott a shake, hard enough to make the dark-haired boy gasp, before tossing him away. The other Alpha rolled with the throw, coming back to his feet with a look of shock and guilt coloring his face, turning his gaze away from Stiles. "I'm sorry, Stiles."

"I don't want your fucking sorry. I don't want **anyone's** fucking sorry! You're sorry you were so wrapped up in Isaac and Allison you forgot about Stiles. The frail human. The guy who's been your _best friend_ since we were seven. Didn't think to text, to call, to drop the fuck by. Didn't know I was gone until my _dad_ called you. Fuck your sorry. I'm going home. I can't... I need to be alone for a while."

No one tried to stop him, no one said a word, as he stormed from the warehouse.

* * *

"Hey, son."

Stiles lifted a hand to his dad as he made the final touches to the English paper on his laptop. "Hey."

"Didn't expect to see you today."

"You can always pick up the phone and we could talk through the door."

His dad chuckled softly as he stepped further into the room. "Nah. Might lose the connection or something."

Stiles gave a weak smile as he saved the document and closed the lid on the computer. "You home for the night?"

John shook his head. "I wish. Just came home to grab a bite and a nap. With the wildfire, we're swamped trying to help out the sheriff over there. Looting and property damage."

"Never let it be said humans aren't opportunistic."

"So, are you gonna be home for a while?"

Stiles sighed and leaned back in his desk chair, face tilted toward the ceiling. "Dunno. There's some stuff... with Derek and the pack... damn."

His dad paused a moment before taking a seat at the end of Stiles' unmade bed. "You know you can always talk to me. I don't know much about werewolves, but I love you. I'm here for you."

Stiles mulled, he picked up a pencil and began rapping out a manic rhythm of wood on wood as he tried to decide how exactly to explain this newest development in Stiles' so-called life.

"I miss that, you know. Not all the time, god knows the way you used to bounce off things and fidget could drive a saint to sinning, but..."

Stiles stilled the pencil. "Yeah. I know."

"I'm all ears, Stiles."

Turning the seat, he sat up and met his dad's gaze. "I'm kind of... married."

In less serious circumstances, he'd have laughed at the gaping, bamboozled look that bloomed on John's face. "What?!"

Stiles scooted his chair closer to the bed. "You remember when I told you about Jeff and Heidi?"

His dad nodded. "Yeah, you said they were mated or something like that. Some kind of werewolf thing."

"Right. Apparently, I- uh, well, shit, this is so awkward. A couple of days ago, something happened and I found out that I was the same kind of mate for-"

"Derek Hale." At Stiles' shocked face, his dad grinned. "I don't know why I said that, but I'm right, aren't I?"

Stiles swallowed, bobbing his head. "Yeah. I had no idea, at all, but Derek did. Anyway, werewolves engage in different kinds of relationships, pair bonds and true mates and a third kind, an exceptionally rare kind, called Sodari Anima. Anyway, when I was human, Derek recognized I was his true mate, but now that I'm a werewolf, we're the last kind. It's so much more than married, it's 'tied-for-life-with-a-side-of-metaphysical-mojo'."

"But you didn't know, I mean that you were his true mate, or whatever, before?"

"I didn't have the slightest clue. I mean, the guy seemed to barely tolerate me on a good day. And while I'm not saying he isn't attractive, it wasn't like I felt some pull or draw or special connection or something. So no. Clueless here. Until I went to the warehouse after Jeff and Heidi left. Like I was two seconds in the same room with him and wham! Next thing I know, I'm taking a hunk out of his shoulder and we're mated."

"So, how did you take it?"

Stiles snorted and his dad gave a sound of agreement. "Not well. Firstly because he never told me and if he had, if he'd let me in on the situation... I'll just say there's a strong possibility things wouldn't have gone the way they did, you know, since after Scott got bit and everything. Secondly, he made a decision, one that has like serious impacts on my life, your life, lots of other people lives and hell, the town too, on his own. It wasn't his choice to make, he had no right to decide for me."

"Stiles, if this thing is as big as your saying, he was probably trying to protect you."

Stiles frowned. "Look, I'm not saying he wasn't. I'm saying I've been in just as much danger, maybe more, by not knowing and being used as a pawn."

"Son, you're still a kid. Hale's a grown man. I'm gonna presume this, uh, entanglement has a physical aspect."

Stiles felt the flush creep up his neck and heat his cheeks. "It does, but it can be ignored. We don't ever have to act on it. And even that - I'm not even totally sure I'd be into it, you know, with a guy. And that's _my choice_. No one else should have the right to tell me who I can or can't be with, whether I was sixteen or not. We could have dealt with that like we're going to deal with it now. One step at a time. It's not a viable reason or excuse for him withholding information I could have used, we could have used, to keep people safe from harm."

"I understand why you're angry. I do. So should I assume whatever you did to him, he did to you? I mean, you said kind of married."

Stiles pulled the neck of his shirt to the side, revealing the silvery mark near the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "Yes. The bond is complete. There was no way I'd leave it undone, that's just asking for trouble."

John rose from the bed, stepped into Stiles and brushed his fingers over the mark. "It's certainly not how I imagined you tying the knot, but I understand, son, I do. I guess my biggest question is what next? Could you find someone else? Would you be able to... I don't know how to ask what I want to ask here." His dad laughed softly and withdrew his hand.

Stiles closed his eyes, ignoring the nausea that rolled through him, thanks to his wolf's agitation at the very thought of being intimate with anyone but Derek. The fucking beast was practically beside itself, enraged, adamantly rejecting the idea with every fiber of its being.

"I don't think so."

"Could you love him? More important, do you think Derek can love you?"

"I don't know, Dad. I really don't."

The sheriff drew his son from his seat and into the strong circle of his arms. "Damn it, Stiles. I don't want that for you. You need someone who can see how amazing you are, who loves every one of your flaws and foibles. I want you to have the other half of your soul."

His dad's words were so spot on, hit so close to the actual truth, voiced every fear Stiles had aloud. "Me too, Dad. Sometimes, though, life isn't fair." He hugged his dad fiercely before stepping back, just a bit. "But let's not put the cart before the horse. No need to borrow trouble, right?" He tried for levity, but the look on his dad's face said he didn't quite hit the mark.

The sound of door bell startled both men, who gave each other matching quizzical glances.

"Who the hell could that be at," John looked at his watch, "eight thirty?"

"I don't know. I wasn't expecting anyone."

Together they left Stiles' room and headed to the foyer. Stiles wandered toward the kitchen while his dad answered the door. He listened with one ear as he opened the fridge, looking for something to eat, when a frisson of recognition skated down his spine.

"So, this is awkward. I suppose you two should come in." His dad's voice was a bit strained, a bit humorous, and Stiles closed the fridge to lean against the appliance.

"He told you."

"Yes, he did... Derek. Isaac."


	12. Chapter 11

Stiles listened as his dad led Derek and Isaac toward the kitchen, then proceeded to look over the bigger werewolf with the kind of observation only a loving, and protective, parent can pull off.

"I'm gonna head back to the station."

Stiles' brows lifted. "You haven't eaten yet."

"I'll get something on the way. One of those veggie subs, I promise." His dad held up his hands at the cross look he got from Stiles for even suggesting fast food.

"You'd better. Be safe, Dad. Love you."

John paused a moment, eye-balled Derek once more. "You too, son."

Stiles took in Derek when he heard the front door close once more. Black leather jacket, black jeans, black t-shirt and a bag of what Stiles knew was Thai food from the little restaurant in town. Isaac was in jeans, a grey t-shirt, and another cardigan. Smiles grinned. Only Isaac could make an over sized sweater coat-thing look appealing. He motioned to the sack in Derek's hand and pushed away from the fridge.

"What'd you bring?"

"Six cartons of peanut noodles."

Stiles couldn't help but grin. "My favorite."

"I know. Mine too." Derek's gaze glanced away and Isaac smiled, a bright thing.

Something Stiles never took for granted. Despite the fact that Isaac had been almost as big a prick to him as Jackson, after he'd been turned, Isaac was the one beta Stiles felt exceptionally protective of no matter their rough history. No matter that Isaac had sort of supplanted Stiles himself as Scott's best friend.

Isaac deserved peace, he deserved to feel wanted, to be safe, to know the words he'd once given Scott were so far from the truth as to be a lie. He had _them_ and _they_ were lucky to have him.

Stiles stepped away from the fridge to pull it open once more, grabbing bottles of water out, and tucking them under his arm, before pulling open the silverware drawer. "You want chopsticks or a fork?"

"Chopsticks."

"Fork." Isaac spoke softly, not hesitant, just... Isaac.

Stiles grinned to himself. "Take a seat, table or sofa, you guys pick."

He grabbed plates and followed the other two males toward the dining room. It didn't take long to dish out the food and pretty soon they were leaning back in their seats, full and relaxed, just enjoying the company. Which was why Stiles was loathe to say what he was going to say next.

"Are you two good?"

Two sets of eyes lifted to his face, both of them a little wide with surprise.

"Sure, Stiles. Why wouldn't we be?" A nervous tension belied the light tone Isaac tried for, and Stiles instinctively reached over to press his hand against the other man's forearm.

His eyes, however, never left Derek's. He watched as Hale's face shuttered, saw the scowl that was the older man's default expression harden and actually felt... good. The last few days, Derek seemed to tip toe around Stiles. And it wasn't like he didn't understand it - he did, but there was no way they could ever make anything out of their situation if Derek thought the only way it would work was if he pretended to be someone he wasn't.

"We're fine."

"So you explained to him why you lashed out just like his father would? You've taken the time to rebuild the trust you broke that night? Before you took a pipe to the chest and disappeared for weeks?"

Derek's glare, the flash of red in his eyes, didn't even phase Stiles. He felt Isaac shift in his seat, muscles coiling, and he gently rubbed his palm along the sleeve of Isaac's sweater, called to his magic in a way he didn't know he could, before he healed them all, before Derek, and pressed warmth, acceptance, calm into Isaac.

"I," Derek halted, took a breath, and finally turned his gaze, grey-green and calm, to Isaac. "I would never hurt you, Isaac. Not like he did, not ever. I shouldn't have- but I didn't know how else to keep you safe, to get you away."

Every single word was like skin over a grater, torn from Derek's throat in harsh, rasping syllables. Isaac gave a soft whimper, his body leaning a little closer to Stiles and the security of the Alpha's touch. "I know, Derek. It's okay."

"No, damn it. No it isn't." He turned his gaze back to Stiles, crimson flaring, taking over. "Is this what you do? Is this how you're trying to be a better Alpha? By forcing them to lay themselves open?"

Isaac whimpered as Derek's anger became a palpable thing. But Stiles remained calm, grounded. "We're pack. We're family. We should be open to each other, we should know every member as well as we know ourselves. That's how you foster trust, that's how you engender real connections, real bonds. And yes, this is one of the things I do."

"Never took you for a sadist."

"I don't revel in the pain, but a wound can't heal properly if it's left to fester. _This_ pack was the cluster fuck of cluster fucks. Almost all of them had tried to harm or double-cross or undermine one another, because of Peter, or you, or Scott. The Alphas and the Darach, the fucking Argents. I won't have another fractured pack. My pack will be strong as one unit, one body with many heads, many limbs. To do that, we fix it, heal the damage together, bit by bit."

"What about you, Stiles? You do any of this therapy shit?" Derek growled low and Stiles flashed his own eyes in response. 

He didn't want to answer, but he led by example. "No, at least not in direct relation to myself. I'm taking care of them first." _And myself never,_ Stiles left unsaid. Instead he turned to Isaac. "You understand I was angry with Scott this afternoon, he challenged me, pushed too far, and I lost my temper. But you also know I didn't hurt him, I left before I did."

"Yes. I don't like it, but I trust you, Stiles. We all do. We understand you won't hurt us, just because you can, or just because you're pissed."

He squeezed Isaac's arm before gently pulling away, stilling the magic. "And even though Derek is angry right now, even if we got into a full-on knock down, drag out, do you think either of us would do it because we got off on it? That we'd hurt each other simply to inflict pain like that?"

Isaac released a little breath and relaxed into his chair, shaking his head. "No. No, you wouldn't."

"Derek turned you and I know he's very important to you. I want the both of you to work on mending the kinks in trust. Derek will explain why he did what he did, so you understand how much it hurt him to do it in the first place. And you're going to show Derek how much stronger you are now, how far you've come since he's been gone."

Both males nodded and Stiles smiled. "Cool, so, you guys wanna play BlOps 2?"

Isaac perked up at that. "That'd be great."

Derek, still angry, but in control, grunted. "I don't play video games."

"That's just because you know you'll lose. But that's okay, I think I have a Farmer's Almanac you can read, old man."

Isaac snorted laughter and Stiles joined him as they cleared up the table, leaving Derek caught between fuming... and laughing himself.

* * *

"I really fucking miss you."

Stiles replaced the dead daisies at his mother's headstone with the fresh ones he picked up at the market. When he'd left the house this morning, it was because he couldn't stand the idea of being cooped up for another minute, being enclosed in the four walls of his room for another heartbeat. He wanted to be alone, yes, but not cornered, even in a space that was his.

"I know, I shouldn't use 'poor' language. I can hear you tsking at Dad for saying shit after a bad call from an ump. But maybe he was right, you know, if ever a situation called for bad words, this just might be it."

He settled on his butt, legs crossed Indian-style, and picked at the grass between his shins and the cold marble.

"Some days, you know, I see it in their faces. The pack, Scott, even Dad. It's like they never realized I could be strong, that I was strong. Strong enough to save them, loyal enough to put their safety before my own. It's like, over the last couple months, they woke up and finally _see_ me. Or maybe, maybe before they were just too preoccupied to notice, they took me for granted. Damn, Mom, I really wish you were here."

_My baby, I'll always be with you._

Stiles hears her words, the faint whisper of a memory, clouded by the years that have passed. He almost can't remember how she sounds, not for absolute certainty, and it cuts a jagged line in his heart. The only reason he can still recall her face is because they still have pictures of her.

He wiped his forearm across his eyes. "They all depend on me, and now a really big part of me longs... yearns, I guess, so hard that it's a god damned ache, a real pain, to lean on Derek. And it's not fair, not to him, maybe not to me either. He's not all that good at reliability, Mom. And I get why, but fuck, sorry, I just... all I wanted was to fix the emptiness inside, to bring the pack together, whole, strong, healthy. I thought if I could do that, then I'd be alright, but some times, I feel even more alone that I did after the Darach, after Deucalion."

The wind lifted, ruffling his hair, and Stiles sniffed and smiled a bit at the marker bearing his mother's name. "Thanks, Mom. Maybe, maybe I'll bring him, Derek, here. Introduce you. I know you'd have loved him, you'd have just opened up your arms and poured all the mom-love he's been missing right into him. I can't do that, not yet, not now, but I meant what I said. I'm willing to try, I want to at least find a common ground. I've never met someone so in need of a real friend in my life. I can give him that much."

He snorted to himself. "Although, I wonder if he believes that, after last night. That guy is really, really, _really_ bad at emoting anything besides varying shades of pissed off. But hey, I almost got a smile out of him last night, well Isaac did, when he totally slaughtered me in one of the maps."

Laughter truly bubbled as he thought about the previous evening. A night of good food and, after the awkward, warm camaraderie. He thought about the way he'd felt so calm, so peaceful, with Derek and Isaac close. How he'd slept better than he had in a while, his head buried into the pillow Derek had reclined on, his scent soothing. And this morning every time he took a breath, he could still smell the lingering aroma of pine and soil and _Derek_. His laughter died off as he recalled the moment, in the kitchen, when he realized those scents had taken the place of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies as the one that meant home, signified family in Stiles' mind.

Scooting forward, he pressed his palm to the smooth stone. "I think we made a good start, even if he fought me part of the way. You know, he remembered how much I love peanut noodles? I asked Isaac if he'd suggested the meal, and he gave me a grin and said no. It was Derek's idea. I mean, I think I ate them like once in his presence, but he remembered. It was endearing, and that word's pretty much anathema to Derek Hale. But the way he looked a bit awkward, a bit shy, when Isaac spilled... Even with his full on I-will-tear-out-your-throat-frown fully in place."

He watched a couple of ground squirrels tussle and tumble near by, their little tiff captivating by virtue of their sheer cuteness. "I don't think Derek and I are even close to the peak of awesome adorableness of those two, but if that's you calling it, I won't argue, Mom."

Sighing softly, he stood up. "Talk to you soon, Mom. I should get back. I love you."

So caught up in his own thoughts, in the chaotic miasma churning beneath his skin, Stiles didn't notice the tall, dark-haired man standing near the back of the cemetery. He didn't see the way his throat worked as if he couldn't quite swallow or hear the catch of his breath.

"Are you alright, Derek?"

He turned to look at Cora. "No, but I think I know how to get there. And for the first time since the fire, I want to be better than alright. I want to be whole."

His sister didn't respond, just threaded her fingers into his and pressed against his arm as they watched Stiles walk away.


End file.
